


Descendant of Three

by Kataury



Series: The Unfamiliar Home [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: A plotline that could have been, Action/Adventure, Conspiracy, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Swords, Violence, first ao3 post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-02-04 16:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12775104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kataury/pseuds/Kataury
Summary: Ten years have passed since the end of the Goddess War. Much has changed since then, and Ike has returned with his close companion Soren at an opportune moment to face a new and unknown enemy. Branded are being hunted across Tellius, and the parties involved reach from Laguz tribes to Beorc kingdoms. What is being done with these Branded no one knows, but this disturbing news compels the former hero to involve himself in the continent’s turmoil, especially when his lover is a target.NOTICE: TEMPORARY HIATUSReviewing plot and revising course of the story. I sincerely apologize for the sudden notice and will return as soon as possible. I have not forgotten this work and continue to work on it every day!





	1. The Return

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings readers, It has been... years... since I've written anything. I figured after five years away from writing it'd be good to get back into it. Just so everyone knows, the following applies to me:  
> \- Suuuuper rusty from writing (I apologize for any grammar errors, I need to review my grammar techniques)  
> \- Never did a fanfiction, so this is also a very first  
> \- Currently wrapping up a college semester, but I felt the need to write this... So the updates may be here and there right now. But I plan to get more consistent come December.  
> \- Tags may change depending on where I want to go with this work. My goal is to keep it Teen though. If I ever add more adult content it would be in a different side work. :P

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ike and Soren return from ten years of travel to Greil's Retreat in Crimea. Much has changed over the years, but then again, so have they.

Soren rose before the sun was out, as he always did. Despite the cold air and poor light of their camp, the branded mage stayed faithful to his routine and slipped silently from his companion’s side to pull on his boots and slip through the flap of their tent. The darkness was little hindrance to his sharp eyesight, and a chilly breeze greeted him as his silent companion for his daily tasks. He quietly tied his long hair back and revived the embers from last night to fight away the biting autumn cold.

The wind mage used to never feel safe sleeping. Throughout his life, he always slept as lightly and briefly as possible. Sleep meant being vulnerable and open to kicks from bitter so-called “guardians”, or attacks from the numberless enemies he had faced in his life. The past ten years had changed that. Nights spent in his lover’s arms had made sleep a cherished blessing. Safely nestled against his large chest, with callused hands tangled in his hair and a face nuzzling Soren’s neck made the night the safest place in the world. The only reason he rose so early was based purely on habit and his personal dislike for laziness.

It also encouraged Ike to rise early.

As soon as the sun began to peek over the mountains in the horizon his companion emerged, slightly groggy and disheveled. Soren didn’t look away from his vigil as Ike stumbled up behind him. Large arms of corded muscle wrapped around his waist and warm breath blew on the back of his bare neck.

“G’morning,” Ike rumbled through sleepy half lidded eyes.

Soren lifted his hands to stroke Ike’s cheek in silent answer, feeling rough early morning stubble on his square jaw. Claret eyes locked on the mountains in the horizon, taking in the ridges covered in brilliant flaming colors of orange, yellow, and deep red.

“We’ll be back soon,” he responded softly, feeling a small unspoken apprehension in the back of his mind begin to grow.

“We’ll be in Crimea today, and back home tomorrow,” Ike agreed, quietly aware of his companion’s discomfort. “It won’t be for more than the winter though,” he promised, enjoying the warmth beneath his hands.

“And then we head east?”

“So long as we don’t get caught in another war for the fate of humanity,” Ike mumbled.

Soren allowed himself a small smile, taking a final deep breath of the cold predawn air.

“Well, considering the goddess of Tellius is sleeping for another thousand years, I think we might make it to Gallia before we’re caught in something.” Soren began to pull away, only to have Ike restrain him with a tight squeeze.

“I need to warm up still. You’re terrible with those wakeup calls,” Ike grumbled, breathing in the smell of wind and forest from Soren’s hair.

“You’re always free to go back to bed,” he smirked.

“You leave the blankets turned over so the cold air gets in,” Ike muttered. “It makes me think you’ve been doing this on purpose to make me an early riser like you.”

“The earlier we rise, the more we can do,” Soren responded, turning his head and kissing Ike’s cheek. “But maybe you’ve made me soft. I didn’t used to turn in so early.”

Ike rumbled in approval and responded with a kiss to Soren’s forehead, lips covering the prominent red brand on his pale skin. “You break me of my habits, and I break you of yours,” he smiled before finally releasing him.

They both quietly returned to their morning chores. Ike broke down their tents and packed their gear while Soren doused the fire and finished pulling out their breakfast of hard biscuits, dried fruit, and leathery dried meat from the saddle bags. The daily routines of travel had become a ritual for the two that required little communication. Ike packed and lifted the heavy hardware of their camp, Soren fed and watered the small packmule, one doused the fire while the other covered any remnants of their presence with scattered leaves and twigs. Their labors were harmoniously spent in quiet companionship, as they had been for the last ten years.

Back then the battle of gods and mortals came to an end, and Ike was liberated from his duty as a hero and general of war. Tellius was in shambles from Crimea to Phoenicis, with more than enough work to demand everyone’s attention. Soren had never felt happier than the moment that Ike had asked the mage to escape it all with him, to leave behind everything that had made him bitter and so hated. He left behind a lifetime of pain and bloodstained history for something new. Something better. The moment crossed the Daein borders into the northern mountains he had felt renewed. A new life beside his friend, one where no one would ever recognize the red mark upon his brow, or curse him for his blood red eyes.

Their decade together had been spent mostly in happiness. Although it was far from common comforts, and the first few months felt eerie without the bustle of soldiers, Laguz, and Beorc, it was fulfilling. Each day was a satisfying entrée for their bottomless wanderlust. New people from different worlds gifted the pair with new insights and riveting experiences. Ike was thrilled to face new challengers with different fighting styles, and Soren struggled daily to control his urges to buy more books on the countless topics that the royal libraries of Melior could only dream of. Life was adventurous, simple, and wonderful together. 

It was only a month ago that Ike had a feeling that he was supposed to return to Tellius. Soren was surprised at his sudden nostalgia for home, but on more than one evening Ike would wonder out loud about his sister and the mercenaries. It was surprisingly unlike the fighter, who was always so focused on the present. Where to go next, what to do next, who he could challenge and test his skills, and where he could grow stronger. A moment in the day was all it took for Ike to change his course towards the back of their long-trodden trail. Reluctantly, Soren had quietly offered to alter their path of travel towards the Tellius continent-- just for a short while until they could resume their exploration to the southeast, he had added.

Ike had eagerly agreed. All too soon, less time was spent enjoying the rarities of a new world and more time was spent talking of home, buying souvenirs for the family, and keeping to their invisible trail. It unsettled Soren, but he chose to hold his tongue whenever he saw a smile break across Ike’s face each time he remembered the thought of seeing his old home. Instead, the mage focused on taking them back, guided by the whispers of unseen winds.

It was an ability that Soren prided himself in after honing his magical talent after all these years. His connection with the elements were always more keen than other mages (arguably due to him being branded), but his ties to the wind were deepest of all. Even without a tome, Soren often felt a soft brush against his hair from the invisible wind spirits that danced about nearby. Ike had once commented that if the wind had a smell and a taste it would be Soren (causing the stoic mage to break out in a rare flush).

In his older age, Soren no longer needed maps and compasses to find his way. Everywhere he went, the wind sage could feel the guiding pulses of wind. Different currents of air carried scents others couldn’t catch, and the slightest shift of the breeze guided the mage’s steps towards his desired destination. All it took was a slight push of his mind to feel the course of the wind. With Soren’s attuned senses, it had been easy to pass the border into Daein, unseen by beorc or laguz since both agreed to avoid any communities until they reached the Mercenaries homestead to prevent the news of Ike’s return from spreading. A simple inhale of air told Soren of any potentially unwanted attention, and their travels had been quiet so far.

The moment they had set foot in Tellius, Soren immediately felt unsettled. He tried to dismiss it for foolish past fears. Old ghosts that tried to haunt him of battles waged, the people he had known and left behind. There was no kinship with this land or its people, his home was only at Ike’s side.  It was only from his desire to be here that Soren had followed. When the warrior was ready to leave, the mage would be as well. 

He reached out to the wind with eyes closed, seeking the small tendril that would bring them towards Crimea, towards the warm atmosphere of the Greil Mercenaries, filled with all-too familiars smells and sounds. The scent of Hay and Mist’s lavender garden. Rhys’ church with stuffy burning candles, and the sound of endless noise. Laughter, shouts, and jeers. The winds of an old place called home flew to him, brushing the hair from his face.

“Are we ready?” Ike asked from behind him, breaking the silent watch he kept over his companion. The mule was packed, the fire was smothered, and the sun cast it warm rays upon them.

“Let’s go,” Soren nodded before leading the way.  

* * *

 

Mist rose to her feet, stretching out her tired limbs after bending over the last harvest of the season. She examined the collection of vegetables in her large basket and let out a satisfied breath. It was the final basket, one of many. Enough to last them the remainder of autumn, and with a bit of creativity and Oscar’s help the food would be stretched out over the long winter. Now if only she could get her husband and children to eat what she cooked. At the thought of her family, the mistress of the mercenaries looked out over the retreat. “Arin! Elena!” She called across the yard. Hearing no reply, she called again, finally hearing a response from little Elena who came running from the front gate at the border of the complex.

“Mama, mama! We have visitors!” She called, running up to Mist to latch on to her skirts.

“What were you doing at the front gate? You know you’re not supposed to leave the stead alone. Where’s your brother?” She asked as her seven-year-old daughter tried to pull her towards the southern gate.

“They were asking for you, mama. I’ve never seen anyone like them before.” Elena insisted. Mist sighed and tried to smooth down her daughter’s messy green hair, as vibrantly green as Boyd’s, and allowed herself to be pulled towards the entrance of the retreat.

“I’m sure they’re just traveling towards the town up ahead, Elena,” Mist reassured her daughter as they rounded the corner past the Mess hall. Her daughter ran ahead to join Arin leading a pair of figures down the cobblestone path.

Mist came to a stop, her eyes wide and mouth open in shock. Arin came running up to her to tell her about the strangers, but the mistress of the house didn’t’ need to hear any of it. Although they were a strange sight to see, they were far from strangers.

“Oh Ike,” she said as tears started to fill her eyes. Skirts were bundled into her hands as she ran to greet her brother and was met halfway to be scooped up into a breathless hug. Arms wrapped tightly around her waist and swung her around in a wide circle. Her older brother squeezed his laughing sister until she was gasping for air, finally setting her down with a broad smile.

“You big dummy, I never thought I would see you again!” She said with a wavering voice. “Ten years and no message or word, no way to know if you’re alive or dead. You big, selfish, jerk!” She tried to sound angry, thinking about punching him with her tough motherly arms, but instead she held tighter, never wanting to let go of the only relative she had left as she buried her face into his chest.

“Missed you too, sis,” Ike laughed with a shaking voice. He held her for a moment longer before noticing a tug on his cloak. He pulled away from Mist to look into the large brown eyes of a stout young boy, his hair the color of his mother and grandfather.  “And who is this?” Ike said with mild bemusement.

Mist laughed and knelt beside her son, gesturing for her daughter to stand beside her brother. “Ike,” she began proudly, voice still slightly wavering. “This is Arin and Elena. Your eldest nephew and niece. Children, this is your uncle Ike.”

Ike stood in shock for a moment. Him? An uncle? Mist a mother? The idea shouldn’t be strange to him. He was Boyd’s best man for the wedding and was happy to leave his sister in the hands of his childhood friend. It only made sense that Mist would have children. But to see them for the first time after ten years apart, Ike was hit with a sudden pang of guilt. _I wasn’t even there to see them born,_ he silently realized. He lowered his towering six feet by bending to one knee, looking them both in the eye with a kind smile.

“It’s nice to meet you two.” He held his hand out to Arin, who examined his callused hand with open curiosity before gingerly taking it in a light handshake. Ike watched in amazement to see the features of Commander Greil on the young boy’s face. He would be as broad shouldered as his father one day, but there was an underlying streak of seriousness that undeniably came from the boy’s grandfather. He turned to Elena and saw she was a ball of excited energy, an obvious inheritance from her mother. She grabbed his large hand with her smaller two in a lively shake. His smile broadened into a grin as he measured the siblings with his firm gaze.

“How old are you two?” The former hero asked.

“I’m nine, and Elena is seven,” Arin answered for them both. “Our little brother is only two though. Mama also says that we’ll have another baby in the spring.”

Ike’s eyes widened and he turned back to Mist. “You have more? Where are they coming from?” 

Mist laughed and playfully slapped his shoulder. “There will be plenty more after number four, just you wait. You know I always wanted a big family,” she reminded him as he rose to his full height.

“I just never imagined my sister being a mother. Especially when your children are forced to eat your cooking,” Ike joked, earning him a strong elbow to the ribs.

“Oscar spoiled you,” Mist sniffed. “I give my family hearty meals and healthy lifestyles.” Arin made a face at that and Ike did his best to stifle a small chuckle. Elena peeked around his broad form to see the quiet figure behind him, holding the reigns to a small pack mule.

“Is he your son?” She asked innocently, seeing the shorter and younger looking man standing quietly aside to witness their family reunion. Soren stiffened at the harmless comment, his blank face breaking into a disapproving frown.

Ike cleared his throat to compose his sudden flush of embarrassment. “No, no, no, Elena. Come here, I want to introduce you to my closest companion. You too Arin.” He led the way to the branded mage.

“This is Soren. He may look young, but he’s actually only a year younger than I am,” Ike introduced. “He’s a very smart man, and my best friend.”

Soren didn’t quite know what to do in the presence of the children. His own experience with youths were nonexistent save in the past with subordinates that acted like children during their campaigns. Arin and Elena offered shy smiles to the petite mage.  

“Er… you… look a lot like your parents when they were young,” Soren offered awkwardly, choosing not to offer his hand. The majority of his experiences in getting too close to a child resulted in being chased off with a broom and curses. Branded rarely had much contact with others, let alone children.

Elena scrutinized his face, taking in the strange appearances that she had never seen before. “What’s that on your forehead? Why are your eyes red? Why are you so short?” She asked curiously.

Soren turned his gaze away uncomfortably, remembering the real reason he didn’t like children. They asked questions he preferred not to answer. Ike made a noise to pull Elena’s attention away, feeling his lover’s distress.

“Do you both know where your father is? I would like to see him and the rest of your family,” he asked.

“Right. Elena, go and fetch your father and uncle Rolf. Tell them they should come in before supper starts. Arin, would you be a big boy and take Ike and Soren’s mule to the stable? Ask Rhys for help if none of the stable hands are there,” Mist ordered, sending the pair scampering away to their tasks. She turned back to face Soren, who had regained some of his composure after being disturbed by a seven-year-old.

“One thing is certain, Soren.” She slowly walked towards the mage. “You look like you haven’t aged a day,” she smiled sweetly at him, her girlish spirit peeking through the years that had altered her features. Motherhood had treated Mist well. No longer was she Ike’s young and naïve little sister. She was the mistress of the household, experienced with managing a homestead and supporting her husband over the years. She was wiser, calmer, and carried an air of confidence in her demeanor.

Soren started in surprise when she pulled him into a hug. “Welcome home to you both,” she said warmly. “And don’t let Elena bother you, she wouldn’t be making the same comment if she knew how small you were ten years ago. I’d say you’ve actually gotten taller,” she giggled.

“He’s the perfect height for my head rest,” Ike agreed mockingly. 

Soren tsked and pulled Mist’s arms away. “You have quite the brood,” he acknowledged politely before withdrawing to Ike’s side. “I assume the rest of the mercenaries will be here,” he added.

Mist nodded, unruffled by Soren’s attitude, “You came at a convenient time, actually. Oscar usually stays with us during his winter leave. He should be here any day now. Mia also decided to board here for the winter after spending some time in Gallia. With the two of you here it will be like old times!” She said excitedly. “Titania is away for a bit to visit father but she’ll back tonight, and Shinon will be back with Gatrie before the day is over. I can’t wait for everyone to see you!”  

Mist led the way through Greil’s Retreat, talking to the pair about the latest work their family had been taking on. Mercenary work was busy as always during the summer, and business ran smooth thanks to Soren’s simple and effective processes he had ingrained in their contracts and procedures. Along with mercenary work, Rhys had opened a school from the church building, which was always helpful with their relations to the town down the road and some more money. Rolf had also gained a reputation across Crimea as a master Archer, second only to Shinon (despite his lackadaisical attitude, Mist knew that Shinon was proud of his protégé and spent more than a little time crafting practice bows for his students). To make up the busy season, the mercenaries hired extra hands to maintain the retreat’s upkeep. A stable boy, a pair of farmers, and a clever stonemason who also helped maintain the ivy wrapped about the main hall.

Ike smiled through it all, taking in the past decade of missed adventures as he silently observed the changes to his old home. The compound seemed bigger than last time. The border walls were expanded to make room for a large vegetable garden on the East side, right next to a small fruit orchard, and a new wood shed stood beside the northeast building where the Mercenaries boarded. The chapel had been relocated to the west entrance, closer to the town to accommodate for the daily inflow of children to Rhys’ lessons. Behind the church was another garden for healing herbs and a small workshop for concocting the doses of vulneries for their battles. The well-trodden dirt paths had been upgraded to cobblestone with low stone walls on either side, providing an orderly framework to the retreat. Overall, everything simply looked…nicer.

The trio approached the main building at the north end, where most of the daily activities took place. In this large, three-story, stone building Ike had grown up with his friends and family. Winter studies beside Soren in the small library on the third floor, watching Oscar experiment with ingredients in the kitchen, listening to his father’s stories in the mess hall beside Boyd and Mist as children. Waves of nostalgia flooded through him as they walked through the open double doors.

“You’ve really changed the place, Mist. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to build a keep,” Ike praised. The interior of the hall had been embellished with rugs and a new chandelier that casted a cheery glow throughout the hall. Fresh straw had been threshed along the floor, and the two long tables on both ends of the hall were wiped clean, save for several large baskets filled with vegetables. Despite the number of aesthetic improvements, the retreat also had sensible upgrades to prepare them for any attack. Thick wooden shutters for the southward windows, a large metal beam poised above the doors, and all furniture composed of the same thick wooden material for a swift barricade at any moment. What alterations had been made to the building was done with a stylish and practical eye.

“Titania always keep us on our guard. A lifetime of battle has made her a little paranoid, I think. But Mia and I do alright making it a home. Rhys also has quite the eye for gardening. We’re thinking about adding flowerbeds next year to liven the place up, but Titania is trying to convince Boyd and the others to build our secondary walls with stone instead of wood.” She sighed. “There’s always a project each year to keep us busy. But being Tellius’ best hired help doesn’t make it easy to finish them.” She huffed good naturedly.

“Sensible upgrades though,” Soren commented, mildly impressed. He honestly didn’t expect his comrades to have the financial sense to invest their earnings into such assets. It was reassuring to see that the Greil Mercenaries made sensible decisions to keep themselves sustained. “I doubt the retreat will suffer too much without a few dozen tulips for the season.”

“Flowerbeds are important too!” Mist insisted with a pout. Just then the door across the hall burst open to announce a new arrival.

“Ike, you devil!” Boyd boomed as he charged at his blue-haired friend.

Ike met the head of the Greil company and his childhood friend halfway, grabbing him by the shoulders as they wrestled into a manly hug. Soren winced as he heard them both pound each other’s back in what he assumed was a friendly greeting amongst fighters.

“Honestly, Ike. It’s late Autumn and you still don’t wear sleeves?” The commander joked.

Ike shrugged. “Once I hit twenty my arms couldn’t fit them anymore.”

Boyd scoffed. “You just don’t wear them to show off your muscles for all the ladies,” he jibed.

“Hardly for the ladies, Boyd,” Ike chuckled, shooting a knowing look to his companion standing behind Mist. Soren looked away to cover the red flush on his pale cheeks.

The comment was lost on Boyd, as a small weight threw itself against his legs. He looked down to see the eyes of his two children smiling up at him. With a loud laugh he scooped them both up, one in each arm. “I take it you’ve met my two hellions then?” He said as Elena tugged at his green hair.

“I did. You’ve done well for yourself, my friend.” Ike smiled. Rolf had walked in behind the children and greeted Ike with less physical enthusiasm, but the same excitement.

“You’ve grown like a weed, Rolf!” Ike exclaimed, seeing the lad looking Ike in the eye now. A body like a reed, with hair a bit longer near his shoulders, Rolf smiled under his former commander’s praise.

“I’ve had the time, sir.” He said with a smile.

“Alright everyone,” Mist interrupted, “I have stew ready for us in the kitchen. Boyd, you lead the way, Arin and Elena help your uncle set the table. Soren and Ike, I have one more member I’d like you to meet before dinner,” she smiled before turning the opposite direction of the kitchen.

She led the way towards the staircase and up to the second landing where the commander and his family lived. “You’re lucky we added more rooms, Ike. After you left I’m afraid we turned your old room into a nursery for the children,” she apologized. “Fortunately, we still have accommodations in the main house for the both of you,” she reassured them before quietly opening the door.

The small room was filled with warm light from the setting sun. Three beds were set in a row against the wall with a scattering of toys about the room. At the end of the row of beds lay a small figure tangled around a cotton blanket a messy mop of dark hair covering the child’s peaceful face. Mist gently scooped up her sleeping son, removing the blanket around his limp form before returning to her brother.

“Ike, Soren, this is Gawain, my youngest son,” she announced with warm pride. She offered him out for Ike to hold, laying the small form in his large arms. The former hero stared in wonder at the small being, examining his round features and messy blue locks.

“He has my hair,” Ike noted with awe. “Or his grandmother’s hair, I mean,” he corrected himself as he ran a finger over Gawain’s forehead, brushing aside some stray hairs from his face.

Mist gently rubbed her brothers arm. “I thought you might like to meet him. He reminded me so much of you when I first saw him. He even has the same face as you,” she giggled.

“What face?” Ike demanded with a whisper.

Mist released a breathy laugh. “He just looks so serious all the time. About everything. He’s a very solemn child.

Soren watched carefully to see his lover bent over the small child, a soft look on his face that he’d never seen given to anyone other than himself. The quiet ambience of the room partnered with the warm and welcoming sunlight, casting rays of yellow upon Commander Greil’s legacy. To the eyes of a stranger the scene could be mistaken for a father holding his son. The mage felt his chest begin to ache and turned away in dismissal, looking out the glass window to the western road and beyond. A short distance away from the gates he saw a trio of figures approaching the complex. One on horseback, the other two on foot.

“They’re here,” Soren interrupted, pulling Ike and Mist from their reverie. The warrior carefully handed the sleeping toddler back to his mother, who gently shook him awake.

“You two head back to the kitchen. This boy is as fussy as his uncle when he wakes up from a nap,” she smiled. Ike dumbly nodded before following his companion through the door.

They both walked down the dimly lit corridor in silence, quietly processing their emotions from the past five minutes.

“Were you really that pudgy when you were little?” Soren finally broke the silence.

Ike gently nudged his companion jokingly. “Of course not,” he denied. A moment later he added, “If anything I was probably pudgier.”

“I take it your arms didn’t fit any sleeves then too?” Soren added, earning him a tug on his long hair tail in response.

“I feel like this is going to be an ongoing point of teasing from you now,” Ike sighed as they descended the stairs.

“So you didn’t? No wonder you’re always cold when I come to bed,” Soren said with a smirk.  “It seems you never learned how to wear clothes properly enough to withstand the cold.”

“No worries. I’ve found someone who warms me up better than any clothing could,” Ike responded with a mischievous grin.

Soren pursed his lips in embarrassment, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks as he turned his head away.

Ike let out a small, victorious laugh and kissed his lover on his forehead, right on his brand. “Let’s go see if my sister has improved her cooking in the past ten years.”


	2. Family Feasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catching up with friends over dinner is always nice. Even though the conversation always hits awkward topics. 
> 
> And the best part of the day? Laying in bed next to the one you love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit more fluff and world/character building. I promise the more plot thick points are coming... in like two chapters. :P In the meantime here's another chapter of stuff.

Micaiah let out a tired sigh, leaning her head against the leather back of her tall armchair as the council room emptied of Daein advisors and Begnion emissaries. She briefly closed her eyes to recover from the three-hour session, willing the beginnings of a migraine to recede before it spoiled the rest of her evening.

“I’d say that went better than yesterday’s meeting,” Pelleas interrupted her reverie as he pieced together the littered papers scattered about the 8-foot round table. “I think they nearly agreed to next year’s charges on exported lumber.”

“Had I known of the trials of politics involved, I might never have accepted the title of queen,” Micaiah sighed, running her dainty fingers along her scalp and ruining her pinned hair.

“I think I would prefer arguing foreign tax rates over destitution any day,” Pelleas responded with an amused cock of his brow.

Micaiah moaned in agreement, stretching out the kinks in her back before pushing her chair back from the table. She turned to her close aide and friend with a tired smile. “Is there anything else on today’s agenda, Pelleas?”

The spirit charmer pulled out a small scroll, unrolling the day’s list of events. “Finally bid farewell to Lord Bastian this morning with the Crimean entourage. Hopefully he’ll reach the western borders before he comes up with a new deal to hound us with,” Pelleas sniffed before continuing. “We Received Tauroneo’s military report during breakfast shortly after. Then the remainder of the morning and afternoon were spent in audience with subjects— and remember, we scheduled a meeting with the lord of Argeth tomorrow regarding his concerns for this season’s harvest. We just wrapped up the opening meeting to negotiations with Begnion over the price of lumber, and… I believe that is everything for today.” He ended with a relieved sigh.

“Thank Ashunera the day’s over,” Micaiah smiled, turning on her heel to exit into the long hallway, with her royal advisor close at her heels. “Let’s see if Sothe has returned from his hunting party.”

Micaiah hastened down the hallway, thrilled to be free from her daily duties for an evening with her husband. Autumn was coming to a close and everyone across Tellius was preparing for the change of seasons. Despite the difficult weather and struggling months to come for her people, it was also a time when Daein would be free of any major obligations in the form of international relations. Heavy snow would close the mountain borders and bitter winds would discourage any noble emissaries from tackling the long and cruel journey.

Within Nevassa Keep winter preparations were nearly complete. Airy curtains and vibrant paintings were replaced with heavy drapes and tapestries to combat the cold winds that always threatened to sneak into the castle. Every fire place throughout the keep was well stocked with wood and charcoal, the stables and hawkery were shuttered, and the servants were issued their new woolen uniforms for the season. Micaiah and Sothe were monarchs well versed in harsh winters. Their old lives in slums and back alleys had made them keenly aware of the difficulties of the season, and they did everything they could to help everyone remain comfortable for the season, regardless of their role or rank within the keep.

Micaiah weaved her way through the castle’s maze, smiling warmly at the few servants she passed before approaching the private dining room where she heard familiar voices. “Sounds like Edward decided to join us this evening,” Pelleas commented as the double doors swung open.

Set at the center of the room was a seven-foot-long table made of dark polished oak. The centerpiece roast released the steamy aroma of rosemary and garlic, accompanied by sides of warm breads and spiced vegetables while the large fireplace cheerily crackled away to cast a chipper glow throughout the room. Five sets of silverware were set at the end of the table where three of the five members were seated. 

Laughter bounced against the plastered ceiling, soothing Micaiah’s tired heart as she looked fondly at her three close friends. Leonardo had grown taller than Edward, much to the latter’s chagrin. He sat elegantly to Edwards left, donned in Daein’s colors and sporting a well-trimmed beard. The past ten years had given the marksman a foundation of accolades and military reputation that placed him at a similar level of reverence as Daein’s leading generals, despite being only a captain. Edward, on the other hand, was dressed in simple plebeian attire, a dark red fleece tunic with wool trousers, and a heavy winter cloak draped over the back of his chair. While his best friend had chosen to continue his service to the crown, Edward had taken a more independent path. He continued to travel and mingle amongst different companies, wandering from town to town with the routine visit to Nevassa for a week-long visit or two. Both remained thick as thieves over the years, even if their lots in life had drifted apart.

At the head of the table, golden eyes sharp as always, was the king consort of Daein. Micaiah felt a calmness blanket her shoulders as she gazed fondly at her husband. Like his friends, Sothe had reached the peak of adulthood. He had filled out in his arms and shoulders while still maintaining a lithe form. His roguish features were caught by the firelight to give him the sharp and angular features that belied his shrewd personality. Long ago he had forsaken his thievery garb for the red and black regalia of Daein, just as Micaiah had. Seated at the head of the table was her strength and foundation, a child from long ago, barely surviving on the streets of Daein, now a king and a leader. Although he didn’t hold the reigns of the kingdom, Sothe had done more than enough to earn his title of King Consort.

Golden eyes met golden eyes, and Sothe reverently rose from his seat to greet the two newcomers with a warm smile. “Micaiah.” He greeted softly as he lightly grazed his lips against hers. Something about his traditional and simple greeting always reassured Micaiah. Before asking about her day or even offering a salutation, he spoke her name with loving warmth. Their tender greeting was subtle and brief, usually unnoticed by those who didn’t know them, and politely overlooked by those who did. Sothe gave a friendly nod to Pelleas before leading them both to the table where Edward and Leonardo rose to greet their long-time friend and foster guardian.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you for some time, Edward!” Micaiah smiled, hugging the two boys who had become giants to her small form.

“It’s been a busy summer,” Edward admitted, taking his seat again after Sothe had pulled out the chair to his left for Micaiah. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

That evening was one of the many precious moments for Sothe and Micaiah. Status, appearances, and obligations melted away in that room for a few precious hours as an easy and familiar camaraderie settled between the five. Dinner was served amongst themselves as servants and guards were strictly ordered to provide them privacy while in this special room. Stories were exchanged of recent adventures, from Edward’s days amongst the peasants to Leonardo’s adventures amongst the troops. Even Pelleas jumped in to offer several updates on the latest scandals and gossip amongst the nobility. 

Underneath the jovial atmosphere, Micaiah (and undoubtedly her close advisor) gave careful note to Edward and Leonardo’s accounts, remembering all political commentary in their conversations. The populace was difficult to understand and relate to in their ivory tower, so Edward and Leonardo’s visits were prime opportunities to hear word from across the kingdom. Each bit of urban and rural news or gossip were safely tucked away for later discussion and analysis the next morning. The years previously spent under the Mad King had made the public wary of the monarchy, and prone to rebellion during Pelleas’ temporary reign. Micaiah took careful consideration of her people, more than what her counselors thought sensible. More time and money from royal coffers were spent on aiding the poor and providing opportunities for the masses than ever before in Daein’s history. It was meticulous, demanding, and exhausting.

“I also heard word that Elincia had another child recently. Another daughter by the sound of it,” Leonardo commented as plates were removed and the main course cleared to be replaced by servings of sweetmeats and a variety of fruits.

“That’s a lot of women for Geoffrey to care for,” Edward laughed, “If they’re anything like they’re mother they’ll keep the court busy for years. But everyone’s getting married these days or having children. It doesn’t seem fair to the rest of us young folk,” he whined.

“Young? Aren’t you nearing your thirties?” Sothe asked with a cocked brow.

“28 is a perfectly vibrant and young age,” Edward argued. “I have another ten years, at least, to find a girl. A fine specimen of man like me can’t be wasted on just any woman, you know,” he smirked. Leonardo rolled his eyes and took a small sip of his mulled wine. “Besides, marriage changes people. Less time for life, more time spent on the lives of others.”  

“As it should be,” Pelleas replied stiffly. “Life means nothing if we don’t’ leave a legacy.”

“And I will!” Edward replied defensively. “Just like Leonardo will at some point, and you will, and Sothe and Micaiah will. But there’s plenty of time for us to leave a legacy. When you focus on building a legacy you lose the time of your life. Sothe and Micaiah are prime examples. Ten years into life and no children yet. They have lives as king and queen. Parenthood will come when they’re ready for it.”

“Now hold on a second there, Edward. I don’t think I can agree with you for several reasons…” Leonardo began as the trio continued their banter. Micaiah tuned out their ranting to give her husband a small smile tinged with sadness. This topic was inevitably common amongst their generation, and being royalty made it a popular topic of gossip amongst the public. Every citizen across Tellius looks forward to the assurance of a secure legacy upon their kingdom’s throne. Crimea now had two princesses for their future, Sanaki was due to be married next year, and even the Laguz countries were celebrating their new posterity amongst the dragon and heron tribes.

More than once Pelleas and her councilors expressed a concern for their monarchs. It was a difficult topic for them both, especially when so many of their friends and compatriots were blessed, and news arrived every year about some important birth in the continent. But despite all their efforts for the past decade, Micaiah still failed to conceive a child.

Sothe noted his wife’s discomfort and quickly changed the topic. “So, Pelleas, how was the final farewell to Bastian?”

Pelleas groaned thunked his head against the table. “What a terrible question,” he said as Edward and Leonardo had their curiosity piqued.

Micaiah took Sothe’s hand in hers to give him a grateful squeeze.

As the night wore on the group jumped from topic to topic, enjoying what little time they had before Leonardo returned to his duties. Once the party disbanded, husband and wife were escorted back to their chambers to retire for the evening.

Micaiah now perched before her vanity, holding a silvery lock between her hands to stare at the strands with great scrutiny. She felt more than heard Sothe come to stand behind her.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just trying to see if my hair could possibly go from silver to gray. Sometimes I feel like the stress of running a country shows more than I think it does,” she admitted before finally looking up at the mirror to see his face, “I could have sworn I saw some wrinkles around my eyes this morning.” A crooked grin broke out across his face and he let out a small scoff.

“Handling a country is nothing compared to being a vessel of a goddess of chaos,” he replied, reaching over to pull her hands away from her hair. She let out a happy sighed and watched Sothe’s reflection in the mirror as he bent over to bury his nose into the crook of her neck, hands tugging at her long gloves that she still wore.

“You’re bothered, though,” he murmured into her long tresses. He didn’t need to guess though. He knew the moment Edward had mentioned children that it would put a damper on his wife’s spirits for the rest of the night. It always did.

Micaiah sighed, avoiding his gaze reflecting through the mirror. “Only when the topic arises.”

“mmm,” Sothe rumbled, sliding off the long glove covering her right hand and Branded mark. He laced his fingers between hers and raised it to his lips, sensually kissing the surface of her brand and sending a shiver of pleasure up her spine.

“I’m always willing to combat that topic in a more practical way,” his whispered. At that moment Micaiah realized that Sothe was standing naked behind her, his toned body hinted at in the dim candlelight. She blinked in surprise before the blood rushed to her cheeks and the pit of her belly.

“A-a futile attempt, most likely,” she stammered, looking away from his wolfish eyes. She yelped in surprise as Sothe’s other arm scooped her up into his arms, right hands still locked together. With a few quick steps across the room, the king tossed her onto the warm fleece blankets, never removing his eyes from her own as he slid her robes from her pale body.

“It’s not the first time we’ve beat overwhelming odds,” he smiled before reaching down to kiss his wife.

* * *

 

Several hundred leagues away the Greil mercenaries gathered around the long, worn table of the kitchen, happily reunited and basking in the presence of family long parted. Their brief greetings with the remaining three members before dinner had turned out just as they expected. The moment Titania spotted Ike at the entrance of the main hall her eyes had filled with tears, seeing the youth she had trained grow into a fine man after ten years of travel. “You look so much like your father,” she praised as she gazed at him fondly. The older paladin had begun to show her age around the edges. Her long red hair was tinged with hints of gray at the roots, and a pair of crow’s feet accompanied her sharp eyes from many years of laughs and smiles. But her strong presence complemented well with her aged wisdom. Even now the company gave Titania the highest respect despite not being the leader of the band.

Shinon welcomed the pair with his usual sneer, showing little surprise at seeing the two again, while Gatrie gave Ike the same back slapping hug as Boyd. Both had also been affected by time; Gatrie’s hair had slightly thinned and his girth had taken on a slight bulk, whereas Shinon’s consistent scowling had created a permanent wrinkled frown around his mouth. Ike offered the veteran sniper his hand nonetheless, gazing down at his senior after reaching his full height several years ago.

Despite his characteristic sardonic attitude, even Shinon couldn’t resist a small smirk from breaking across his face as he took Ike’s large hand. “You’re more of a wolf than a pup now,” he relented. Ike smiled at the rare praise just as they were called to supper.

Dinner was much noisier and livelier with three children added to the family. Arin, Elena, and Gawain demanded most of the attention from the friendlier members of the band. Elena turned out to be a picky eater, refusing to eat her bowl of stew despite Rolf’s attempts to persuade her, while Arin spent more time wriggling in his chair trying to snatch bits of Gawain’s bread. The small two-year-old remained quietly huddled against his mother’s lap, eyeing Ike and Soren shyly from her skirts while ignoring any offered morsels from Mist or Rhys.

Soren quietly observed the strange scene, hauntingly fascinated by the chaos at Mist’s end of the room. Stains covered her clothes, splashes of soup and partially eaten food scattered across the table, and he didn’t really know why she had bothered to hand them cutlery since the small brood obviously preferred sticky fingers to shovel bits of unsightly food into their gaping orifices. He watched bemusedly as his lover fawned over little Gawain, doing his best to win the small child’s favor with several small offerings of food, most if not all met with little success. 

“So where did you both go?” Titania asked, breaking Soren’s distressed musings. “Ten years is a long time to disappear from home,” she said pointedly.

Soren cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his soup that tasted a bit too much like cabbage. “Past Daein,” He said, vaguely gesturing to the unseen distance. “After we crossed the border we headed north following the coast line.

“We were actually stuck along the border for several months,” Ike added, giving up on Gawain to give his full attention to the conversation. “The mountain ranges along the border didn’t have any known routes, so we spent a lot of time searching out a path. Had it not been for Soren’s knack of wandering I don’t think we would have made if very far in our travels.”

“What was it like outside of Tellius?” Mist asked curiously, firmly pulling Arin back into his seat and giving him a stern look. He looked away sheepishly and began to sip at his soup with a sour face.

“Different,” Ike replied with a smile. “Very different. There were all sorts of people with different skin color, different languages, and even laguz that can transform into different species of animal. I can’t even begin to tell you about some of the people we met, their fighting styles, and the food! We’ll have to tell you about the food when Oscar gets here. In fact, I believe after dinner we may have some souvenirs to show you all.”

“So does this mean you’re staying?” Boyd asked curiously.

“We’ll be leaving in the Spring,” Soren replied quickly, sliding his cup out of reach from Elena’s grubby hands.

“You aren’t staying? I thought coming back meant you were… done wandering, Mist said disappointedly.

Ike dropped his gaze after catching Mist’s crestfallen face, feeling guilt tugging in the back of his mind. His sudden homesickness weighed down on him heavier than before, dashing away his excitement from mere moments ago. Seeing everyone grown and changed made him acutely aware of where he was in life, what he’d been doing for the past decade without his friends and family. He quietly bit into a slice of bread to avoid responding.

Soren allowed the topic to fall into a pregnant silence, quietly watching his companion’s face with a carefully guarded expression before finally speaking. “If it’s alright with everyone here, I would like to examine your books tomorrow,” he said, turning to Boyd and Mist.  

Mist was barely able to nod her consent before Gatrie interrupted. “So what are the women like outside of Tellius, Ike? Are they as homely looking as Daein women, or more…. exotic?” He raised his eyebrows knowingly.

Ike blinked. “Erm… they look like… women?” He answered bemusedly. Shinon rolled his eyes down the table, slipping a skin of wine from behind him to fill his empty cup.

“Ike isn’t nearly as shallow as you, Gatrie. He focuses more on personality instead of appearances,” Mist added sagely. “That and he’s too thick to notice when a pretty woman flirts with him,” she added with a smirk, causing bursts of laughter to ring throughout the kitchen.  

“What do you mean? I know when women flirt with me,” Ike grumbled defensively as the mirth died down.

“Obviously you know when women flirt with you, we’ve all seen you running away from the hordes before. If I remember correctly there was even a merchant woman who stalked you during our war days. You just don’t realize when _pretty_ women are trying to get your attention,” Boyd said with exasperation.

“Like who?” Ike demanded, looking at Titania and Soren for confirmation of this accusation. Titania silently agreed with an apologetic nod, while Soren chose to focus on picking at his cold soup.

“Let’s see… Lethe always had a fondness for you, I’m pretty sure Leanne would have said something if she was able to speak a language we all understood. Jill became pretty friendly real quick, and let’s not get started on our time in Begnion,” Boyd ticked them off one by one. “Mmm… I think I’m missing someone… who could it be? I think she was a noble or something… maybe royalty…”

“Princess Elincia,” Gatrie finished with a wistful sigh.

“Right! Our revered leader, hero of Tellius and loved by all things with long hair and thick eyelashes, turned his nose up at the _princess_ of our own country!” Boyd cried, covering his face with the palm of his hand in embarrassment.

“Elincia? She was our employer! She never flirted with me,” Ike argued.

“Big brother. I tell you this with all the love of a sister, but you really are clueless,” Mist confessed with a sad shake of her head.  

“Our former commander really blew it with that one,” Gatrie agreed. Rolf nodded his head sagely while Shinon shook his head at the ignorance of his fellow mercenaries.

Ike scoffed at his companions’ pity, dismissing them all by pushing his chair away. “I’m going to go get the saddlebags from the stable, and I assure you that none of you will be getting your gifts,” he promised. The gathered mercenaries let out another round of laughter before following him in escaping from Mist’s meal, most leaving their bowl’s half eaten.

* * *

 

Soren perched on a stool close to the fire, snugly wrapped in a clean robe while running a long wooden comb over his wet hair to help it dry. It was wonderful to wash away the dust and grime from traveling. Despite his distaste for settling in an area for too long, Soren always appreciated the amenities of a house. Like a bath, a bed, and a roof.

“Do I really not understand women, Soren?” Ike asked as he watched the mage dry his dark hair from the bed. Soren glanced over to the former general with a cocked brow, noting how pensive Ike’s face was. The comment had bothered his lover more than he cared to admit apparently.

“You understand women fine, Ike. You’ve just never been charmed by them,” Soren replied. He ran a hand through his hair once more before rising to close the fire gate and check the lock on his door. Despite Mist giving them separate rooms Soren had expected Ike to sneak in for the night, quietly slipping inside after Soren had returned from using the bath downstairs by the kitchen.

“Never? Have I really been oblivious this entire time?” Ike mumbled.

Soren let out a weary sigh and clambered onto the bed, stopping when he was crouched above Ike, straddling his chest and staring down into his dark blue eyes framed by cascades of his damp hair. “Ike, you and I have been traveling together for more than ten years. Of those ten, you have bedded me for nine. Does it really matter what you think of women when you obviously have _never_ been interested?”

Ike blinked, the gears clicking together in his brain as if given the solution he had been looking for. He released a rare smile and raised his large hands to card through Soren’s long hair that draped around them. “Sound logic as always,” he whispered. Soren returned a small smirk and pulled aside his robe, slipping under the sheets and pressing his body against Ike’s hard frame.  

“It’s good that you’ve realized you prefer men _now_ after all these years,” he grumbled, tucking his face into the crook of Ike’s neck and closing his eyes.

“It’s not that… I just feel bad that I’ve apparently been ignoring their feelings for so long, ” he sighed. “Perhaps I’ve been oblivious to other things too…” After a moment of silence Ike opened his mouth again, “I should probably tell Mist about us…” he quietly realized. His branded companion cracked open his eye into a narrow red slit.

“Don’t worry, Ikey-poo. I’m sure Aimee, Elinica, and all the other ladies will understand when you finally come out,” he reassured him. “They might even feel better after finding out you prefer men.”

Ike winced. “Goddess of Chaos, I haven’t heard that pet name in years. I think I nearly gagged Mist’s dinner up.”

Soren snorted and allowed Ike to comb his hands through his air, slowly lulling him into a warm slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I did this instead of focus on my IS project... Oh well. No regrets! I need to write while I'm motivated.


	3. The Worst Time for a Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This nightly surprise isn't exactly what Micaiah was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a bit longer than planned, cause I realized that what started as a vague idea in my head needed to be more solidified to make these chapters easier to write so I'm not all over the place. So I'm currently storyboarding and building up new characters here. Bear with me if I'm a little bit late on some chapters... :\
> 
> To all those kudos and commentators: This was done for you! :D Thanks for the support guys. I may or may not be able to post next week, cause finals have arrived for the semester, so that means chaos and crying. I still hope I'll get to write the next chapter, but if I don't I will most likely get back on the ball after the 11th. I'll be completely done with finals. So I'll be free to spend a bit more time focusing on this. 
> 
> Confession: I... have never actually played Fire Emblem Radiant Dawn. I remember reading all the conversations regarding the plot, and thinking it was pretty cool stuff. But I never actually got to play it and get to know the characters very well. So most of the RD characters in this work were researched through the fan wiki. :P Let's hope that was enough. If the characters are a little off... well, A for effort, yes?

Micaiah let out a happy sigh, enjoying the autumn breeze sliding through her hair as she strolled through the southern gardens, enjoying the last remnants of flora before winter arrived. Surrounded by Daein dahlias and violet crocuses she glided along the clean-cut paths with a soft sweep of her royal regalia. No servants accompanied her, and no fauna greeted her as they all prepared for their long winter rest. Further down the winding paths she tiptoed along until she came to a large sycamore tree with low-hanging branches. The sound of flapping wings caused the queen to glance up into the branches, where a red bird cocked its small head towards her direction. It looked… familiar.

“Yune?” Micaiah said in surprise. She hesitantly raised her hand to reach out for the small bird, waiting to see if it would approach. The small creature gazed intently at the branded queen, measuring her with a beady black eye before swooping down from its branch. As the creature descended it grew three times in size, feathers darkening to an oily black, with compounding red eyes like an enormous fly and pinchers instead of a beak. The hideous creature dived right past her hand to attack the queen’s face. Micaiah let out a cry of surprise at the assault, raising her hands to keep the monster from clawing away at her face and snapping at her eyes with it’s sharp mandibles. With a shrill scream she beat at the beast in defense. All too suddenly the pain disappeared and she was surrounded darkness.  

Images assaulted Micaiah’s senses in place of her attacker. A flash of Sephiran gazing over his shoulder at her, dressed in pale clothes with stunning wings of white and platinum blond hair, his eyes fond and loving. Another moment she caught sight of Ashunera tearing herself apart in two, the sound of laughing children creating an overwhelming din as the loving goddess tore herself apart. A woman with long dark hair placed a child into a cradle, tears falling from her face. Whether it was joy or sadness, Micaiah couldn’t tell. From there it only got worse. In place of her previous attacker, stones came flying at her from the darkness, pelting away at her entire body while screams and shouts of condemnation drowned her ears.

“Branded! Filthy branded! Kill her! Abomination! Blasphemy of the Goddess!” The slanderous assaults never ceased as she tried to turn and run. “Branded! Filthy Branded!”

 “Please! Please stop!” She begged, her cries growing uncontrollable as memories continued to haunt her left and right.

“Sothe!” Micaiah called out desperately.

* * *

 

“Micaiah, Micaiah stop! Wake up, love. please!”   

Micaiah’s eyes flew open, breath coming out in short gasps and cold sweat dripping down her back. Sothe hovered above her with worry woven across his face. She slowly realized where she was—the surface of the bed, her husband’s long fingers on her cheek, and no one else in sight. No stones. No monsters. No human monsters. Exhaustion and relief washed over her as she returned to reality.

“A bad dream,” she whispered, rubbing her face with both hands.

“A nightmare,” Sothe corrected, pulling his shaking wife closer to his chest. Micaiah released an unsteady breath and snuggled closer, feeling a little bit safer as he wrapped his arms around her chest.

“I haven’t had such a vivid dream since my visions from Yune,” she murmured.

“What did you dream about?” He asked quietly.

“I… I don’t know. It was so strange. I’ve rarely dreamt since I was with Yune, and most of my visions would make some form of sense back then. I’ve never been so… disturbed,” she sighed, trying to remove the images that burned across her mind.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sothe asked groggily.

Micaiah took a deep breath to calm herself. “Tomorrow. If I still remember,” she replied. He mumbled a soft agreement before drifting back to sleep.

Slowly the seconds ticked by, marked by her husband’s steady breathing. Micaiah let out a frustrated sigh, realizing that sleep had left her for the night. She quietly slipped from Sothe’s side and crept across the room, dressing in her nightgown and donning a warm, thick robe on top of it. She slipped from the master bedroom into the main suite, lighting a single candle to provide her with some light. _If I can’t sleep I may as well do something productive,_ she reasoned, quietly shuffling about the room towards an elegant writing desk set in the corner of the room. Parchment, inkwell, and quill were prepared on the surface with the candle casting enough light for Micaiah to begin her drafting.

_Dearest Sanaki,_

_Winter is just around the corner, and I’m still worried that negotiations with Begnion won’t be settled before then. I don’t want to send your emissaries home in the snow if I can help it, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I fail to deliver on my promise of a quick conclusion to these meetings. Sothe has been great help, though. His work with the Laguz kingdoms have earned him a lot of respect amongst the Soutwestern nations as well as Daein. Just this past week he was able to open negotiations for Goldoan transport next Spring. I’m so proud of how far he’s come as a leader and a king. People have really started recognizing his authority for the past few years, and I feel like it’s been helping him come to his role as a monarch. It’s been a struggle for him to take on the mantle, but after all these years I feel like he’s finally comfortable being a leader._

_I also look forward to your wedding in the Spring! How exciting it will be to see my little sister marrying the Duke of Seliora! I can’t hid my feelings of concern with marrying the last member of the senate, however. We didn’t exactly have the best experience with the other_ six _members. I just can’t help but be a little suspicious of this duke you speak so little of. I guess I’ll just have to come and visit you at the first sign of Spring!  I bet Sephiran has been struggling to let you go! Even being across the country in Serenes he still sends me letters every so often. I can only imagine what you get to go through._

_I… I honestly don’t know what I’m doing right now. I feel like my mind Is all over the place even as I’m writing to you. I woke up in the middle of the night after having this horrible nightmare. I thought I saw Yune again. The Yune from a long time ago when she disguised herself as a songbird. But it wasn’t. It was this monstrous… thing that attacked me, and I saw Ashunera, and Sephiran when he was still a heron, and-_

Micaiah startled in surprise as the French doors to the balcony flew open, knocking over her small inkwell as the wind billowed through the dark red drapes. The candle on her desk sputtered to smoke, descending the room into darkness. The branded queen sat still at her desk, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim moonlight that peeked behind a set of heavy clouds before nervously rising from her desk. She let out a sigh of relief when she realized the wind was the only intruder for the night and approached the doors to shut out the cold air.

The moment the curtains stilled Micaiah stopped, noticing a shadowy figure standing at the threshold of the open doors. She barely had the chance to open her mouth before the intruder aimed an ugly gray staff her way, pulling the voice from her unspoken cry and leaving her silenced.

Realizing the curse that was cast, the branded queen attempted to flee from the room, running to the closed double doors where her husband slumbered. A flash of pale light was her only warning as she reached for the doorknob. The burning cold scared her away as the doorknobs were frozen shut.

 _Ice magic?_ Micaiah thought in confusion. There was no ice magic in Tellius, there was no ancient language or galdr to control the fluid element of water or its many states. She whirled around in time to see that the intruder was joined by another similarly cloaked figure. Both covered their faces in dark cloth, obscuring their visages and making them into ominous shadows

Micaiah began to bang on the door, hoping that her desperate pounding would be enough to rouse her husband.

“So sorry, dear. I’m afraid his majesty will be slumbering for quite a while,” a deep alto voice responded before rushing at the queen. Micaiah stumbled away, grabbing onto the nearest object in reach. A fine porcelain vase sailed into the face of her attacker, distracting her long enough for the cursed queen to run to the other side of the room where the main doors would lead to the hallway.

Her second assaulter was already prepared and waiting, barring her exit and brandishing a long blade towards her throat. Micaiah skid to a halt just in time for her hand to be snatched into an iron grip. The cold intruder pulled Micaiah closer, pinning the silver-haired maiden against her thick leather breastplate.

As Micaiah struggled and kicked at her opponent, the second hooded figure removed the cover to his face to reveal pale skin, and pale yellow eyes that gleamed through the darkness. The queen watched in a panic as he snatched her right hand, examining her dark brand for but a moment before pressing his lips to its artistic surface in a reverent kiss. Like a spark to oil, a fiery heat pulsed through her body. The brand upon her right hand glowed a pale blue, overwhelming her body with burning sensations before falling into numbing darkness.

* * *

The moment Sothe’s eyes opened he felt something was off. His hand gripped at the cold empty sheets where his wife had been last night, brow furrowed in concern. Micaiah never rose earlier than him, she loved her sleep too much. Even in the face of responsibilities as Queen, Micaiah rarely rose before the sun. Most efforts to awaken her were met with a surprisingly accurate and powerful slap to the face. He lifted himself from bed with a yawn, stretching out his muscles to drive away the last vestiges of rest. A quick glance out the window showed that morning was just about to crest the horizon, casting a pale glow into the room foretelling dawn’s arrival. The king consort dressed quickly before his servants could attend to him, intent on seeking out his wife.

Upon opening the door his bare foot was met with a soaking wet carpet. He jumped back, shocked to see the mess in their main room. The French doors to the balcony were thrown wide open, dropping the temperature of the room to nearly freezing. Bits and pieces of vase were scattered against the wall by the desk, which was also a mess of spilled ink that had dripped down to the carpet. Sothe’s stomach dropped. He ran across the room to the doors at the end of the hall, opening them to see the hallway was empty of guards. What was going on?

Sothe barely made it around the corner when he was greeted by his armed escorts, Barif and Caf. “Where is her majesty? What has happened to her? What were you two doing last night?” He demanded. Both guards stared blankly at the king

“Beg pardon, your majesty, but we were just switched shifts sir. Nothing has been reported since last night,” Caf said with a note of worry in his voice.

“What are you talking about?!” Sothe shouted, turning on his heel to lead them back to his room. He gestured to the chaos around the room. “What is this?? How did no one hear a vase shattering? Or the windows opening? Or any possible screams coming from her majesty?” Sothe’s voice rose in volume with every question until he was soon shouting at the two.

They stared at the enraged king in shock. Both were innocent parties in this crime, Sothe immediately realized. Neither of them could have known what had happened to Micaiah. But someone in the castle had to have some clue. The former Whisper fell silent and turned his back to his men, glaring hard at the shattered vase as he quietly pondered what to do.

This was undoubtedly an abduction. A very clever one if the castle remained ignorant of this disaster. Sothe felt his heart beating faster as he began to fear for his wife’s safety. He couldn’t even fathom how the kingdom would run without her. They needed her wisdom and intellect, they needed her benevolence and charity. Daein needed her, Tellius needed her, _he_ needed her. But with no idea of where she was or who had taken her, Sothe couldn’t risk causing panic, not when Daein was about to face a harsh winter, not when they were already worrying about an heir. He had to keep this secret. For now.

“Caf, summon Lord Pelleas to my quarters, make sure he comes alone, also inform my attendants that I will not be needing their services this morning. Barif, summon General Tauroneo and Lord Leonardo, do the same as Caf and ensure that they come alone. Both of you remain silent on these events,” Sothe commanded with cold calculation. “Go quickly and quietly.” His two escorts nodded and silently departed, nearly running for the door.

Sothe numbly closed the set of double doors, feeling his chest constricting and the blood rushing in his ears. He needed to find out what was going on. He needed to think.  He needed to figure out his next move, and more importantly he needed a drink.

The king refused to touch anything in the main suite, opting instead to return to his bedroom where a small seating area was arranged by the fireplace, along with a side table equipped with a decanter of strong Talregan whiskey. His nerves were only slightly settled when he heard a knock on the main doors. Pelleas greeted him from the other side with Caf on his heels. A careful scan of the room and his majesty was enough to darken the counselor’s visage.

“It’s good that you summoned me first. This is… bad,” Pelleas said darkly, he turned to face the guard and ordered him to stand guard outside, allowing no one entrance. After making sure the door was closed behind him the counselor wandered the room, examining the wall and ceiling for any markings of spellwork. Sothe nodded numbly, feeling a horrible torrent washing through his body that the whisky couldn’t seem to dull fast enough. He downed the rest of his drink and kept close to Pelleas, watching him examine the vase, the doors, and the writing desk where a half-finished letter lay.

“She was writing when it happened, this sentence wasn’t even finished before something caught her attention,” Pelleas deduced, gazing from the desk to the window. “A scuffle of some kind obviously happened. How did you and the guards not hear her though?” He wondered out loud as he gave the letter a quick scan.

“I don’t know. I awoke when I realized that Micaiah wasn’t with me. The carpet was wet this morning in front of our bedroom door,” Sothe offered weakly, “I don’t know what that could mean though…” he trailed away as he watched Pelleas approach the threshold of their bedroom, examining the carpet for any stains on the thick rugs.

After a moment of silent pondering Pelleas shook his head.  “It’s difficult to say. Regardless of what happened, I believe the only obvious assumption is that Micaiah was taken. Silently… by someone who knew this sort of thing could limit us. If Nevassa finds out that their queen is missing, it could incite panic. Who else knows besides you and your escorts?”

“I summoned Tauroneo and Leonardo. They will be here soon. Besides them I don’t think anyone else knows yet,” Sothe shook his head. “But we will have to question the guards that were assigned last night’s shift. There may have be accomplices amongst them,” he added. Pelleas nodded thoughtfully and agreed to oversee the private interrogations.

Sothe took a deep breath before quaffing another finger of whiskey. He slowly forced his shoulders to relax and closed his eyes, trying his best to recall anyone who may hold a grudge against Daein. Faces and names juggled in his mind. A bitter noble? Beorc supremacists? But why? No letter of demands, no sign of a group or person. It was too much. And not enough at all

After a short while, Caf opened the door to allow Tauroneo and Leonardo entrance. Pelleas pulled them aside to recount the recent events while Sothe finished composing his thoughts.

Leo quietly approached him, gently laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’ll find her Sothe,” he promised.

Sothe calmly nodded, letting himself sit in silence for several moments longer. With a final deep breath he opened his eyes with new fire. Head raised and shoulders set, the king of Daein turned his attention to Tauroneo. “General, we need search parties in Daein. Organize small teams and have them search the city. Remain discreet,” he ordered.

The grizzled soldier nodded his head in understanding. “I will send them to act as representatives of Nevassa’s Aid Council. They’ll be able to access more of the city under the guise of surveying winter assistance needs.”

“Leonardo, I want you to take a message to the Lord and Lady of Talrega. Bring one of them to Nevassa with their best wyverns for long distance winter travel.”

The blond lord nodded his head. “I’ll ride out now,” he assured as he turned on his heel.

Sothe swiveled his gaze to meet his counselor. “What political matters need immediate attention?”

Pelleas ran a hand through his hair as if he could pull his mind apart to figure out Micaiah’s schedule. “Most state matters do not require Micaiah’s presence, and the few that do we can use sickness as an excuse. At least for now. You will have to assume her position until we find her, however. I will return to my office and organize schedules as needed. Then I’ll meet with you during breakfast to hash out a strategy.”

“Do it,” Sothe nodded. “Make sure my schedule is clear tonight though.”

“Why?” Pelleas asked with a tilt of his head.

“I need to request a fireman,” he replied solemnly.


	4. Nostalgia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moments when you realize there's no place like home and family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals are over!! I’m free! Last Monday was my final day. I had to finish up six essays and a semester journal (that I hadn’t been keeping… whoops), which ended up being around 30 pages of writing. Gross. So after that whole day of writing I thought to myself. What should I do with my free time? Why write of course! So here’s your next chapter, readers! But there was a lot more writing than just this latest chapter. For those that are new and reading this after 12/12/17, then you can ignore my following update notes:
> 
> 1\. Chapters 1 and 2 were combined into the first chapter.  
> 2\. The majority of chapter 3 was rearranged into chapter two and I added a couple thousand words of writing that you might want to read for some more content with the Greil Mercenaries.  
> 3\. The latter part of chapter 3 was also given more content (app 1k or 2k words) to get some more setup for the plot I had in mind.  
> All these changes were done to make things a bit more even chronologically. I wanted chapters to focus on a specific time and cover specific groups/locations. The more I kept thinking about how my next chapters were going to go I realized I really didn’t like how I did my first three chapters. So that's been fixed.... hopefully for the better. Ha. 
> 
> Btw, none of these chapters have been beta read. This chapter was really... hard to write for some reason. I haven't written intimate work in a loooong time, so if it's awkward let me know so I can practice on refining that style. Battle scenes also used to be my favorite, but once again, this was stupid hard to write for some reason. GRRRRR! I swear I'm a better writer people! :( I might spend a couple of short combat drafts to relearn my old writing style. It also might be because this chapter wasn't as plot driven as I wanted it to be. This is really the final setup chapter before things start picking up. So I apologize if things have felt... slow... haha. But they'll be picking up from here on out. Til then, enjoy!
> 
> Update 3/30/2018: Chapter beta read and good to go

Ike slowly came awake when he felt Soren begin to slip away from his arms, carefully creeping to the edge of the bed. A small crack of an eye showed that the room was still fairly dark, at least an hour before sunrise. Much too early for either of them to be up he decided. The warrior subtly shifted his weight with a tired moan, pretending to still be sleeping as he inched a bit closer to Soren’s lithe form. Just as the mage sat up and began to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, Ike snaked his long arm around his waist and gave a strong pull away from the cold morning air. The mage let out a small startled gasp as he fell back into the tightly packed straw bed.

He tilted his head backwards to scowl at his lover’s smug smile, failing to pretend sleep. “You big oaf. Not a morning person my ass,” Soren muttered. In response Ike brought his other arm around to drag him the rest of the way under the covers.

“It’s too early, Soren,” He slurred, wrapping his leg around Soren’s thighs to complete the capture, tucking him snugly beneath Ike’s heavy weight. He buried his face into Soren’s neck, deeply inhaling Soren’s scent. Goddess how he loved this smell.

Soren grunted under the uncomfortable weight on his chest, half-heartedly struggling against the draped heavy limbs. After wriggling for several minutes to test his human restraints he let out an exasperated sigh before tilting his head to the side to display his open submission. He relaxed and felt Ike’s hot breath against his neck, sending small shivers up his spine. The blue-haired hero replied by nipping at the strong pulse in his neck, making him melt to putty in his large arms and feeling the rising heat in his belly.

“That’s a dirty trick,” he gasped, as Ike’s nip turned into an assault on his pale neck. “Ike… you’ll leave a mark…” he warned weakly.

“Good,” Ike mumbled as he began a trail of kisses to his collar bone. “Let the world know you’re mine.”

Soren allowed himself to bask in Ike’s ministrations, running his hands through locks of messy blue hair and enjoying how they fell over his face without his green bandanna to hold them back. The large hands behind his back slipped under his shirt and began to sneak upwards.

A hard yank on Ike’s hair pulled him away from the petite mage’s clavicle, giving Soren enough space to bring his mouth to Ike’s. Nine years had given both plenty of time learn about each other, and Soren used this to his advantage as he fiercely wrestled with Ike’s mouth. His fiery challenge caused a low moan to slip from Ike’s mouth.  His skin grew hot as he bit at Soren’s lower lip, knowing that bites and nips were his lover’s personal weakness. A small grind of Soren’s hips countered Ike’s retort, leaving him breathless and breathing heavily.

Ike finally had to pull away, rolling off Soren to lay next to him. His partner grunted in surprise, turning to cast him a disapproving pout. He turned to meet the Branded’s half-lidded red eyes with an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Heart,” he sighed. “If my niece and nephews weren’t sleeping next door I would be ravishing you right now. But I don’t think that would be the best way to wake up small children. You know how thin these walls are,” he apologized.

Soren let out a frustrated huff, setting his gaze on the ceiling above him. “A convenient excuse for the losing opponent,” he smirked. “The right touch makes the master commander retreat,” he teased.

“A simple tactic for future preemptive strikes,” Ike retorted. “Don’t you fret, oh Archsage of the Winds. Opponents of my sword have yet to defeat me,” he added with shared smile. A soundless laugh slipped from Soren’s mouth, and Ike brought his lovers face close again to kiss his brand, a silent “good morning” and “I love you” woven into the gesture.

Soren replied with a small kiss to the corner of Ike’s lips before throwing the covers off the both of them, assaulting them with ruthless chilly morning air. The big man let out a startled yelp, doing his best to salvage the covers and their fast fading warmth.

“Now that I know you’re awake, you can accompany me to the kitchen. I intend for us to have something of a normal meal before the mistress of this house rises,” Soren said as he swiftly dressed and prepared for the day.

Ike groaned, sprawling across the bed lazily. “First you steal away the blankets, and now you bribe me with food. What kind of monster are you?” He demanded with a scowl.

Soren smiled smugly at his lover as he began to tie his hair into a long tail before replying.

 “A tactician.”

* * *

 

Greil’s retreat always had an interesting layout. It was built much like a smaller version of Crimea’s garrisons with additional renditions fit for a small estate. The surrounding five acres of land outside the complex were also owned by Greil’s family, but remained largely unused except for hunting and training exercises. Several plots had been rented to a few farming families to bring in a little bit of income when contracts were scarce. The complex itself had several amenities that made it fairly sustainable. Small gardens and orchards, an upgraded chapel to serve as a school room, two wells on both ends of the complex, and what looked like future designs for a small bathhouse on the East end.

Soren meticulously pored over the ledger book, cross-referencing the additions to the compound with the liabilities found in their accounts, slowly bringing ten years worth of revenue and expenses into balance. It was a strange and familiar feeling to the mage. The last time he had to use extensive accounting had been during their days in the military. The complexities of running an army composed of soldiers from different countries (twice) had made Soren a master of bookkeeping. He silently reveled in the peaceful morning light filtering into the small study on the third floor of the compound. All four corners of the room had bookshelves set into the face of the walls and were lined with well-used books. A large window gave Soren the best view of the compound’s layout, barely giving him a peek over the walls to the countryside beyond and the best view of the courtyard below. The smell of dry pages and sage incense permeated the room, bringing back memories of late nights reading books by the fireplace and setting the world aside for just a little while. It was a nostalgic room, and the closest thing Soren would ever call home.

A small knock on the door pulled Soren away from his thoughts as he turned to greet Titania. Long red braid over her shoulder, she had forsaken her armor for a green tunic and brown breeches, comfortable and casual clothing to work and train in. She gave him a small smile and approached him in silent greeting.

When Ike had led the armies of countries both Beorc and Laguz, and later the entire people of Tellius, Titania had stood as his right-hand adviser, mentor, and general. As Ike’s left-hand Soren had often butted heads with the paladin on actions and strategies, but of all the people Soren had met, Titania was one of the few women -- few people -- in his life that he respected. Her honor blinded her to expedient decisions, but that code of chivalry had been a major factor that molded Ike into the hero he was today. The mage was silently grateful that Ike had been raised by righteous figures like Titania and Greil, instead of suffering the life of dark survival as he had.

The paladin nodded to Soren’s neck, “I see you had a good night,” she said with a grin.

Soren’s hand instinctively slapped onto the place where Ike’s mouth had been only a few hours ago. He let out a distressed noise before laying his long tail over his left shoulder in a feeble attempt to hide the mark. Titania released a small chuckle and shook her head.

“There’s no need to hide it from me, Soren. I’ve known your feelings for Ike for years. I’m just happy that the feelings were reciprocated.”

“Mmm. Does everyone already know?” He asked cautiously. She shook her head.

“I believe Shinon is the only one that figured it out. He was always sharp like that. I actually won a fine Begnion Wine from him once you two got together. He thought you would never make it official, let alone last all these years,”  she smirked as she gazed out the window. Down below in the courtyard, Ike had been warming up with simple exercises, a wooden practice stick swiping through the air in graceful arcs.

“How has he been?” She asked softly.

Soren shrugged his shoulders, putting a small mark next to an overdue credit account. “He’s alright. I think he missed home, honestly. Something changed in Ike this past summer. I sometimes suspect that his wanderlust has faded,” he confessed.

Titania nodded in understanding. “Thirty is a benchmark for most people. Nearly everyone that we know has settled into the life of parenthood, or a career that doesn’t involve fighting,” she reasoned. “Everyone reaches that age when you realize it’s time to move on.”

“Ike isn’t ‘most people,’” Soren retorted stubbornly. Unlike most his age, Ike had never had the chance to really do what he wanted. At the young age of seventeen, Ike’s life had been given to the same work of his father. The Greil mercenaries had dutifully saved the kingdom of Crimea, and the entire world three years later. The son of Gawain had seen more darkness and hardship in the world than most ever would before the age of twenty. After subsiding the wrath of a goddess, Ike never wanted to fight for others again. “I want to see what’s out there,” he had said. “I want to fight for me this time.”

“No, he’s not,” Titania agreed. “But he is human. Most men and women rarely live past their seventies, Soren. Ike will be halfway through his life in the next five years. It only makes sense that he would be concerned about his legacy.”

Soren silently processed Titania’s words, feeling irritation begin to build in his chest. A legacy. Ike had left a legend as his legacy. The continued existence of Tellius was his legacy. What more of a legacy was needed? He voiced his thoughts to Titania, who could only shake her head.

“I don’t know, Soren. I could very well be wrong,” she admitted. “Perhaps it would be best to ask him about your concerns in person, though.” The mage flinched at the truth of her comment. Instead of acknowledging his bottled-up thoughts, he pointed to a specific part of the ledger book.

“Help me read your chicken scratch,” he ordered, gesturing for her to pull up another chair as he opened the book to the beginning. Titania politely complied, leaving her admonishment in the air as she helped him translate her work.

* * *

 

Ike released a satisfied sigh, setting the wooden blade back on the practice rack as he wiped away at the sweat on his neck with a damp rag.  The crisp autumn air made perfect weather for exercise, and eased the burning desire he had stifled this morning. The main doors to the hall opened to admit Boyd and Rolf, followed close behind by three little heads that tugged and pulled at their uncle.

“Please, Uncle Rolf!” Elena begged.

“Show us, show us!” Arin insisted.

Their uncle stuttered, face flushed and embarrassed at the young children’s attention. Little Gawain tugged quietly at the tails of his coat, a determined look in his eyes an echo of his siblings whining.

“What’s all this now?” Ike approached the group, tightening the green bandanna around his forehead.

Boyd shot his friend a knowing smile. “The little ones want to see if Rolf can hit an apple at the top of the ridge out back. But Rolf hasn’t tried that for a while. I think he’s a little bit scared to embarrass himself,” Boyd explained, loud enough to catch Rolf’s attention.

“I can hit it! It’s just… a long climb up that ridge just to waste an apple,” he argued lamely.

“I’ll put it up!” Arin yelled, but a large hand on his head made him quiet down.

“Your mother will kill all of us if she finds out you climbed that ridge,” Boyd shook his head. “But! If you’re interested, it’s been awhile since I’ve sparred with your Uncle Ike,” he said with a mischievous smile. He threw a side glance to Ike and puffed up his chest to make himself bigger, which wasn’t difficult considering his lumbering six-foot frame.

Ike smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose it will be good to see if my successor can hold his own against me,” he agreed.

“I wanna see Uncle Rolf’s apple shot!” Elena protested, but Arin’s eyes sparked with excitement.

“Come on, Elena. We can see Uncle Rolf shoot the apple later. I wanna see Dad kick uncle Ike’s butt!” He cheered.

Rolf laughed, thankful to be free from his chore and thrilled at the opportunity to see Ike in action again. He took Elena and Gawain by the hand and led them to the edge of the courtyard, sitting on the stone hedges in front of the hall.

Ike allowed Boyd time to warm up while he pulled out a pair of dulled practice weapons- an ax for Boyd, and a blade for Ike. He checked to make sure that the worn leather wrapping the metal was tight and secure before handing it to the leader of the mercenaries. A quick glance to the third-floor window showed that he had caught the attention of his former advisers. Titania unlatched the window to provide them both a clear view of the match below. At the end of the courtyard, Boyd's fans cheered for their father. Arin and Elena sat beside their uncle Rolf while little Gawain sat on the archer’s lap.

“I’m afraid you'll be losing your fans today, Boyd,” Ike apologized, giving his blade a few practice swings. “Although I thought they would have at least known about the 'hero of the goddess’ by now. I fear you’ve been neglecting your duties as father in their lessons.”

“No worries, Ike. They’ll be getting a real good lesson today,” Boyd assured his friend as he whirled his ax in a steady circle. “Besides, there’s no better hero in the world than a father,” he grinned. Ike relented the point as the two warriors circled each other slowly, examining each other’s feet, their position, their guard.

Boyd charged forward, swinging his ax low at Ike’s feet to push him back. His opponent kept his defensive stand and parried with his blade, throwing the ax wide. The swordsman sidestepped to the left and stabbed his blade to Boyd’s side, forcing him to fall away to defend his back. The mercenary commander quickly recovered and swung his ax in surprisingly fast arcs, building a powerful offense with few holes. His brawling move would be difficult to pierce, so Ike retracted to avoid the oncoming assault. He used his speed to once again flank Boyd, rolling away to barely avoid a strong swing.

Boyd had cultivated a number of new techniques over the years. His lack of speed had been made up for in his vastly improved defense. His usual aggressive attacks from his younger years were more carefully measured and patient. Time and experience as a veteran commander had made him more cautious. Against most opponents he would be an impenetrable fortress.

Ike used the green-haired man’s caution against him, moving in close and increasing the speed of his assaults. Boyd struggled to bring up his large ax to meet all the assaults and finally felt the jab of a covered blade against his right shoulder.

“Touch!” Boyd called, pulling away with his practice ax lowered. Ike did likewise with a smug look on his face. His returned with a fierce smile of his own before raising his ax again. He wasted no time in charging forward, coming forward with surprising force at this opponent with his ax coming in from the side. Ike barely had time to raise his sword in a parry before their blades came at each other again.

Although Boyd had matured in his more strategic attacks and measured movements, Ike had spent a decade refining his art with the blade. His mastery of the sword had been cultivated from careful practice with different opponents from unseen lands and people. As always, Ike relied on his agility to give him an edge as he danced about Boyd’s powerful swings. The difference in skill level was palpable to both opponents as well as the few adult viewers around them.

“He’s changed his fighting style a lot,” Titania observed beside Soren, who nodded silently, admiring his companion’s deft movements about the courtyard. Ike was a combination of agility and strength, using both to keep Boyd hard pressed in their bouts. The sound of a distant neigh pulled their attention away as a mounted soldier rode through the east entrance in the distance.

The sound of hoof beats interrupted the gathered mercenaries as the rider pulled his mount to a halt several yards away.

“Uncle Oscar!” Elena screamed, hopping down from the wall to greet her favorite relative. Arin was close on her heel as they were greeted by the Crimean knight with a warm sweeping hug. Boyd and Ike put an end to their session and approached the last member of their mercenary band as he was bombarded with comments and questions from the children.

“Rolf said he was going to show us his apple shot today a-and dad was fighting uncle Ike and he has a short friend with him, but he’s not here right now…’ Arin babbled while Elena peppered Oscar with requests for a menu of treats. The knight allowed the noise to wash over him, turning his attention to greet his younger siblings with a brotherly clap on the shoulder.

“It’s good to see you again, Sir Oscar,” Ike greeted with a smile and a warm handshake.

“You as well, Ike. Welcome home, commander,” the knight replied kindly. He gathered the reigns of his horse and led him to the stable as the group followed close behind. “It’s also captain now, actually. I was promoted to a Knight-Commander this spring.”

“All Oscar’s hard work really paid off. He’s been serving as the head of Queen Elincia’s personal retinue for years now,” Rolf piped in. “He’s actually pretty famous as the Royal Family Knight. He practically eats at the table of the Queen now!”

His eldest brother shook his head. “It’s nothing quite so grand, Rolf. I’m more of the royal assistant than anything.”

“Then what is a Knight Commander exactly?” Ike gave him a curious look, to which Oscar pulled out a small silver medal inscribed with the profile of a solemn looking Elincia.

“Each knight commander is placed under the direct service of one of the three divisions. Lord Bastian’s group is dedicated to foreign relations, Queen Elincia focuses on internal affairs, and King Geoffrey supervises Crimea’s military expansion. Being a knight commander is mostly being her majesty’s assistant. It’s been… different,” he admitted. “A lot more paperwork, a lot less time with Furrow.” The horse perked his ears at hearing his name, nosing at Oscars hair while he was unpacked and released from his saddle and bridle with Rolf and Arin’s help. “And a _lot_ less time with my family.”

Ike nodded in understanding. “Titles always seem to do that. If I didn’t have Soren I don’t think I’d even be on the front lines during the Crimean war.” The former commander remembered the day he had been made a Lord (thankfully a non-permanent one after months of persistence with the Crimean Court). The number of men under his command had opened a whole new world of responsibilities that would have overwhelmed him without Titania’s experience and Soren’s intellect. Without the help of his friends, Ike was certain he never would have been able to lead the Greil mercenaries, let alone an entire army.

After some persistent nagging, Oscar allowed Elena to brush Furrow while Arin prepared a stall for his mount, fetching water from the well and piling fresh straw onto the floor. While the two elder children took over his chores the knight snatched little Gawain from Rolf’s hands, giving him a tight hug while departing with his brothers and friend.

“Well since you and Soren have returned to us I think a celebration is in order!” Oscar announced, eliciting cheers from his brothers at the prospect of his cooking. It was good to have Oscar back.

They were met with the same enthusiasm from Gatrie and Mist. Even Shinon slipped a grateful sigh at having the steadiest member of the team returned to them. When Oscar announced that they would celebrate with meat, Ike’s favorite food, the cheers could be heard across the hall. That night as everyone gathered beside the hearth, exchanging endless stories after their warm meal, Ike truly felt at home again.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, this chapter was a real struggle for some reason... :\ I still feel unsatisfied with it... *sigh*
> 
> So this next week I decided I need to read over my current work and do some editing and check to see if there's any weird holes in my storyline, make sure my writing is good and not filled with redundant adjectives, etc.. As well as beta reading I will also work on chapter 5. So yeah! Thanks for reading guys! Let me know what ya’ll think! Especially if the pacing is right, I keep reading it and I think it’s okay writing? But I could be biased about my own writing... I’ll come to a conclusion about this after doing some beta reading this week and let you know if I make any drastic changes. If this confuses people on the plot in any way I apologize. I just like to keep you all on your toes ;) See you next week!
> 
> Post Betaread note: I realized why I dislike this chapter! It's a freaking fluff chapter!! Nothing plot heavy happens. It's just introductory and setup shtuff. :P Gah! Now I wanna go back and change it or delete it... but there are some little bits of character setup here that are pretty important, and other bits of detail that might be useful later. Ah screw it. You guys get a fluff chapter. :\ Too late to turn back now!
> 
> 2ndry betaread note (3/30/2018): Reread it. I actually like the character development we got here. It's just a simple and fun chapter to read. So I'll take it. If I bored you oh well. haha.


	5. The Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Greil mercenaries get approached with a new job, Ike and Soren have some disagreement about taking it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot more in mind for this chapter... But then I really got into some of these conversations and I made it halfway through what I had planned. Haha. Oh well. Small steps I guess. If my writing seems a bit slow let me know and I'll cut back on that and focus on getting through the plot. I just like character development a lot, especially when you have so many characters. :P 
> 
> By the way! Look at all these magical hits and kudos and comments! :D I didn't not expect this work to get as many readers as it did. Thanks so much for coming back to read guys! If we keep going like this then I might just make it to the end of the story! Boof... the end... that's kind of far away... haha. 
> 
> Update 4/2/18: This chapter has been beta read 2x and should be done ish.

The next several days passed by uneventfully, save the fact that Ike had finally won the favor of his little relatives after spending his free time with his young relatives. All day Ike escorted the children, showing them his old haunts from his youth. He wasn’t surprised that they knew most of them, but the few surprising discoveries-- such as the small alcove in the library rafters, the warmest space in the compound just under the kitchen in the cellar, and the perfect place to catch beetles behind the stables-- made him a prime playmate and the leader of their small party.  His persistence finally earned him the title of “Uncle Ike” from Arin and Elena and a single “Yike” from Gawain. Ike brandished these titles with more pride than any medal or honorific title received throughout his life, making sure that everyone in the retreat was aware of his new name.

From Soren’s view atop the third story window he inconspicuously observed his lover chase after Arin and Elena, carrying Gawain atop his shoulders while the little boy shrieked peals of laughter. The mage did his best to focus on the line of numbers in front of him, trying to drown out the sound of shouts and yells outside by reading journal entries out loud. A second later his eyes were drawn back to the clear glass where he spotted Rolf and Boyd joining the chase, herding the children towards their blue haired uncle with a charge. Ike glanced up and caught his eye, smiling up at his lover and gesturing for him to come down and join them. Soren blinked several times before ducking his head back to his work. He would not be tempted by play. This was a short stay. A temporary time in an old home with small children and old friends. They would be leaving soon enough. He continued to mutter these facts to himself as his strokes on the pages grew more curt and aggressive.

 The sound of wyvern wings shattered their peace, drowning out the young ones’ cries as a large black wyvern swooped over the walls to land in the courtyard with a heavy flap of its wings. The sudden presence of a stranger sparked apprehension in the kids, who quickly scurried over to hide behind their father’s legs while Gawain wiggled down from Ike’s shoulders into the safety of his arms. Titania and Mist emerged from the main hall a moment later to meet their unexpected visitor.

Once the wyvern folded its massive twelve-foot wingspan, Ike glimpsed the black armor of Daein and slowly approached the newcomer with Boyd at his side. Comfortably seated upon his wyvern’s saddle, with a light brown layered mullet and a black eye patch, was Lord Haar of Talrega. Despite his usual laid-back demeanor, the wyvern master and his mount looked worn with the signs of hard traveling. As the winged lizard lowered his head to rest, his rider slid shakily from the side, holding on to the wyvern as he turned his attention to his welcoming party.

“Commander Boyd, and…. Ike?” He looked curiously at the pair, wondering if his single eye deceived him. He rubbed his face to dismiss the weariness plaguing him and looked again, amazed to see the hero of Tellius still standing. “General Ike,” Haar greeted with newfound energy.  “It’s good to see you’ve returned to Tellius.”

“Lord Haar,” Ike greeted with a friendly nod.

Boyd stepped forward to greet Haar with a clasp of their wrists. “Long time no see, Lord Haar. It’s a long journey to Crimea from Daein, and you look like you just made that trip in one night,” He commented bringing Haar back to his purpose. He reached into his pouch to pull out a rolled scroll with a wax seal upon its surface, solemnly handing the message to Boyd.

“His majesty King Sothe of Daein has called upon the Greil mercenaries for a royal assignment. He requests your presence immediately,” Haar announced as the commander broke the seal to the scroll.

Mist gently stroked the wyvern’s head as Boyd scanned the contents of the letter. “It must be serious if the king sent one of the fastest riders in his kingdom to us. What’s happened?” She asked worriedly.

The Lord of Talrega shook his head. “It is something that would be best spoken in private, or better yet, as the rest of us travel,” he explained while Shinon arrive grumbling and hungover beside his protégé. Soren also emerged from the main building, partially hidden at the threshold of the hall beside Titania.

“What do you mean by ’The rest of us?’” Ike asked, shifting little Gawain to settle more comfortably in his arm.

“And what makes you think you are in any condition to travel anyways? You and your wyvern are exhausted. Neither of you are in condition to be flying,” Mist added rebukingly. “You shouldn’t push yourself or your wyvern like that.”

“Trust me, rushing isn’t really my style,” Haar sniffed, “But when he gave me my orders, his majesty requested your assistance as soon as possible. I even have—”

“I’ll stop you right there, Lord Haar,” Soren interrupted. “Before Boyd and his mercenaries even consider taking this assignment they all need to know what they’re getting into.”

Haar barely opened his mouth to respond before Titania spoke up. “I agree with Soren. You and your wyvern both look like you could use a break anyways. Let’s all gather in the hall to discuss this in private. I doubt you’ll make it past the hilltop if you tried flying again anyways, Lord Haar.”

The Lord of Talrega silently thought for a moment with pursed lips before shrugging his shoulders in agreement. “I won’t argue against the chance for a nap. If you have a place where I can let Cobalt rest while we chat I’d appreciate it.”

Rolf sent Arin and Elena to fetch the remaining mercenaries while he helped Haar unsaddle his wyvern just outside the stable. A short while later the mercenaries and Daein lord gathered in the main hall where Boyd and the Daein Lord recounted the summons on the scroll.

“Micaiah is missing??” Mist cried in shock. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t say,” Boyd shook his head. “Their instructions are a bit confusing. The summons simply asks the remainder of the party to meet at the border of Daein in an old fort called Noctem.”

“More importantly, what about payment?” Shinon asked with a cocked brow, earning him a withering look from Mist. “Well the king should understand that if he’s going to send us on a wild goose chase at the very threshold of winter he’d better be willing to pay well,” he argued.

“Everything will be settled between the party you send to Nevassa,” Haar explained. “The instructions don’t detail this, but his majesty requested me to send several of you to him directly using this.” The rider pulled out a large pouch filled to the brim with a light blue dust. 

“Warp powder!” Soren exclaimed. “You intend to send a party to Daein with that much?” He asked incredulously, drawing closer to the pouch of Daein’s rare commodity.

“Counselor Pelleas informed me I should have enough to send four mercenaries to meet with his majesty personally, the remainder will have to travel with all haste to the rendezvous at the Daein border with me,” Haar explained.

“Why does he need to meet with us?” Boyd queried.

“That I don’t know,” The wyvern lord shook his head. “That’s above my station… as a lord of a province… with a wife and other responsibilities” He muttered, taking a large swallow of ale that Oscar had served.

“Who will be part of which party?” Rolf asked Boyd curiously. The head of the mercenaries let out a sigh and rerolled the parchment as he gazed intently at Titania and his wife. His solemn gaze was enough to earn a nod from his second in command and an apprehensive look from Mist.

“Oscar and I will lead the troops to Noctem since we’re both cavalry,” Titania announced. “Gatrie and Shinon will come with us.”

Boyd turned to Ike and Soren. “And what will you do?”

“What do you mean? Are they not coming?” Haar asked incredulously.

“We didn’t exactly return to take up jobs again,” Ike hesitated, sharing a private look with his partner’s blank gaze. Underneath the branded mages hooded red eyes was a churning mixture of regret, irritation, and anger. Their return to Tellius was specifically scheduled for the winter to avoid this situation from happening. One of their greater fears in returning was getting embroiled in another international conflict. _Of all times for a countrywide crisis to arrive it had to be now_ , Ike silently cursed, feeling even stronger waves of frustration from his lover.

“We didn’t come here to rejoin the Greil Mercenaries,” Soren added coldly, eyes still locked with Ike’s. “We only came back for a brief winter stay to visit Ike’s family and friends. We weren’t exactly expecting any large contracts to come along during this time of year.” The emphasis on _Ike’s_ family and friends wasn’t lost on the more observant members of their team. Titania gave her former cohort a small look as she silently analyzed his words.

Boyd shrugged his shoulders “You’re both still a part of the Greil mercenaries. A case this big hasn’t happened since the Goddess wars. We could really use both of your skills for this job, in fact. Soren, I’m sure your insights would really help us in our search. There isn’t a man or woman alive who could do what you do. It’s almost as if you both were meant to—”

“Don’t finish that thought,” Soren hissed. “The Greil Mercenaries have been perfectly capable of working without me or Ike for the past ten years. They can handle what is most likely a ransom case without us as well,” Soren refused with a scowl.

“This is bigger than that!” Mist protested. “The Queen of Daein is missing! We don’t know if this is just a case of bandits looking for ransom or a plot against the throne. Who in their right mind would kidnap a queen for only a bit of coin?! Even you must realize how strange this is, Soren. Especially if Sothe sent a Lord of his country to hire us.”

Soren’s scowl deepened into a glare. “I am well aware of how serious this matter may be. But regardless of the issue—”

“So you know how important it is for both of you to help us in helping them!” Mist interrupted, but the wind mage continued relentlessly.

“Ike has no obligation to answer. He left the Greil Mercenaries in the hands of you and your husband. Such matters as this do not concern us!” He shouted.

“Soren!” Ike snapped, checking his companion with a stern look. Soren glared at the former hero for a short moment, already feeling the unavoidable conclusion of Ike’s decision fast approaching. The mage folded his arms and turned his gaze away from the others to glare at the crackling fireplace, closing himself off from the rest of their discussion.

Mist ignored Soren’s petulance and placed her hand on her brother’s arm, breaking his firm gaze on the small figure. “You will help, won’t you, brother? Sothe and Micaiah are counting on their friends to help, and that’s why we’re here. That’s why the Greil mercenaries were summoned in the first place. You came at just the right time for this very reason. You know it,” she whispered, looking up at him with pleading blue eyes.

Ike struggled to answer her, feeling an all too familiar weight rest upon him like a heavy cloak. A lord, a general, a hero, a savior, but never just a man. The mantle of duty had already found him after less than a month in Tellius. He had accepted so many titles in his life…and many of much higher esteem than he desired. He was a friend to many, and a comrade to Beorc and Laguz alike. Master of blades, veteran and remnant of war. He was a lover to one, but would never be a husband or a spouse, and never a father. Ike blinked in surprise at the last title and quickly dismissed the thought as he glanced at the expectant faces of his family. Soren refused to meet his gaze, hiding his disappointment in the heat of the fire. Haar had already dozed off in his seat, whether from exhaustion or his usual habits none could tell.  

The former hero of Tellius came to a decision.

“I’ll come,” Ike agreed quietly. Mist smiled at him gratefully and turned to her husband.

“Mercenaries, rouse yourselves and dress warm. We leave at sun high,” Boyd barked. Haar snorted awake at the sudden noise as the mercenaries scattered to prepare for their journey. Oscar led Rhys and Rolf to the kitchen to prepare their provisions while Soren quietly rose and left for his quarters. Ike rose to pursue him when Boyd clapped a rough callused hand on his shoulder.

“You have our gratitude Ike. Work in the winter is far from ideal,” Boyd smiled. “And don’t worry about Soren, he’ll come around like always. But more importantly, I want the both of you to head to Nevassa in my stead.”

“What?” Ike asked confused, his thoughts and attention pulled back to Boyd as Soren slipped from view.

“You and Soren will warp to Nevassa,” Boyd repeated, “If there’s anyone who can find out about Micaiah’s disappearance, it will be you two. I’m going to send Rolf and Rhys with you as well. I’m more capable of the hard mountain travel than Rhys, and Rolf has a sharp eye for detail. The four of you will do better in Nevassa than me,” Boyd explained. 

Ike shook his head, “But you’re their leader, Boyd. If anyone goes to see the king it should be you.”

“I know,” Boyd admitted, “And I’ll still be leading my band across the mountain passes. But let’s be honest, I don’t think Soren would cooperate very well without you there. Besides, Sothe will be excited to see you again.” He smiled. “And… well… if anyone will get us the best payment, it will be Soren.”

Ike let out a small chuckle. “Fair enough. What about Mist and the children?”

 “They’ll stay behind with some of our renters while we’re away. I never feel comfortable leaving her alone in the fort with no real defense. A few of the families north of us come down to keep her and kids company, so she’ll be all right.” The commander took a deep breath and stretched his arms above his head. “Better get ready then, my friend. We have a lot of work to do. By the way, if you’re interested I still have your old war armor. Soren’s too,” Boyd offered.

Ike blinked in surprise. “Really? What made you keep them?”

“I knew you’d need it someday,” Boyd shrugged. “Now’s as good a time as any.” 

* * *

 

Wind spirits danced about in irritation around Soren, casting small breezes through the room and causing the small fire in to sputter as he furiously paced from one end to the other. He reluctantly pulled down his satchel and began to pack the bare necessities for travel. Two sets of clothing, journal and inkwell, and a few books. All too soon was his task complete, returning him to pacing the room, doing everything he could to expend the fiery anger in his chest. He had too much energy right now. He had to do something. A small glance at the books on his table peeked the corner of an old wind tome. Simple galdr scrawled along the spine in the ancient tongue along the forest green cover.

He tapped his fingers in his folded arms for a few seconds before snatching up the tome and opening the door to the hallway. He didn’t bother to check if anyone saw him leave for the courtyard and the western gates. Just outside of the retreat were a few targets setup for Rolf’s students to practice. Different heights and shapes were used to create difficulty for the student archers, but this provided little obstacle for a wind mage.

Soren opened the tome to a random page of scrawled galdr etched beautifully across the parchment in dark ink. Reaching deep inside himself, the wind mage fell into a calm trance, feeling the wind embrace him in a stillness that separated him from the world around him. Galdr, also known as the music of the herons, was a magic that required complete concentration. The most effective magic users were capable of drowning out the entire world around them to strengthen their bonds with the elemental spirits around them. To this day there were only three elements with which a Beorc could control. The passionate and powerful fire, the unpredictable and savage lightning, and the calm, subtle wind.

His entire life had been spent in the companionship of the wind. Soft breezes were used to soothe the scars along his back as a child, and it had earned him the attention of a tutor who, although brutal, had given him the tools necessary to communicate with the gentle and free element. It defended him from harm and stilled his soul in ways that no other human, animal, or element could.

Save one man.

He growled at the thought and narrowed in on his spell, opening his mouth to sing a silent galdr. Although his lips moved no voice could be heard above his small whispers that sounded like a chorus to the elements. With hardly any effort the breeze arose and picked up speed, sharpening to an invisible blade of galvanized wind particles. A gesture of his hand was all it took to attack the target, cleanly slicing through hay and sack cloth to destroy the dummy with ease.

 Soren didn’t allow himself to break focus and continued to make the wind dance for him, scattering pieces of hay about the air as the written galdr slowly faded from the tome with each verse. When he finally ended his song the page was empty, drained of its lyrics that were devoured by the spirits. He allowed the gust to settle back into its friendly breeze, quietly reveling in its invisible caresses as he closed the tomb.

“As focused as ever, I see,” a calm voice behind him shattered his thoughts. He whirled to see Titania leaning against a crooked tree with her arms folded. “Always your greatest strength, and your greatest weakness,” she added, stepping away from the shade and slowly approaching him.

Soren cleared his throat and looked away, pondering leaving before she could start what he suspected she would.

“You don’t want to take the job,” Titania observed, stating the obvious first.

Soren chose not to respond, flipping through his tome to see how many pages of galdr he had remaining in his tome.

“Or, more importantly, you don’t want Ike to take the job.”

He blinked up at his close associate, probably the closest thing he’d call a friend, before lowering his gaze again.

“Either you don’t want to get wrapped up in what may be, but likely isn’t, an enormous assignment full of unknown trials. Or you don’t want Ike caught up in this task. Knowing you for the emotional young man you are, I strongly suspect it is the second,” Titania continued, walking past him to sit on a bale of hay that had miraculously survived Soren’s assault. She gestured for him to join her.

He hesitated for a short moment before relenting, rigidly perching on the edge of his seat as they both gazed into the forest. Titania silently sat, patiently waiting for Soren to respond as she always did.

“It isn’t fair to him,” Soren said softly.

“Fate seems to find a way of picking on heroes more than once,” Titania agreed.

“And he’s too damn nice to turn others down for his own sake,” he added slightly louder. “It’s what got him into all of his messes before. His way of thinking has always brought him unwanted heartache and burdens. It’s what got his father killed and will undoubtedly kill him someday.”

Titania silently nodded, waiting for Soren to continue. “We left for a reason, Titania. We left so he would _never_ be used again by any queen, master, or goddess. So he wouldn’t have to sacrifice everything for the sake of another’s cause.” 

“It’s just a job, Soren,” she reminded him gently.

Soren scoffed. “A queen of a country is missing under mysterious circumstances and their king has sent a messenger in secret, hiring us to seek her out. Only an idiot would think it’s a simple search and rescue,” he muttered.

 He spoke a quiet moment later. “I felt this... The moment we returned to Tellius. I felt it in the wind. Something is… here, or perhaps something called to Ike to bring him back here. The spirits have been distressed,” he whispered. “Now it’s not just my gut telling me something’s happening, events are transpiring that seem to be pulling us towards that entropic source. This presence. The board is set and players are being gathered. What will the game take from Ike this time, Titania?” Soren demanded.

The paladin quietly listened to the mage, seeing his fierce love and devotion in his furrowed gazed. She released a small sigh and leaned forward until her elbows rested on her knees. Titania couldn’t doubt Soren’s suspicions, to dismiss a mage’s intuition as superstition caused more than one tragedy throughout her career. Especially Soren. The paladin carefully chose her words when she next spoke.

“Would he really be Ike if he did anything else?” She asked. Soren clenched his fists. “Despite his lack of a smile, Ike’s always been the epitome of charity, Soren. He showed care for Laguz when he was surrounded by others who thought they were less than human, he agreed to help a princess in need when the act marked his entire family and troupe as wanted criminals. He showed mercy on countless occasions where none was deserved, and humbly accepted the tasks set before him. Would he really be the man you love if he ever denied what is only his nature?”

Soren closed his eyes in a futile effort to deny the truth of Titania’s words. A memory of the past came to the forefront of his mind. A starving child, meeting a merciful boy who gave up his meal without a second thought. That damned single act of kindness had given Soren a chance to live. That accursed, beautiful smile had been enough to save the damned soul of a branded mage. Ever since that day Soren had stood at Ike’s side and never asked for anything else in life. His character was never a learned behavior, or a lesson nurtured from his father. It was Ike’s very nature that made him who he was, even as a small child.

“No…” he quietly admitted, feeling a mist cover his eyes. Fortunately, Titania had turned her gaze away to bask in the warm sun. She chose not to say anything else, comfortable in their companionable silence as the mage felt the last of his anger drain away to be replaced with a resolved acceptance.

“I’m going to need a new tome,” the mage mumbled, fingering away at the empty pages.

Titania broke out into a knowing smile. “No worries, I still have your rexcalibur in the armory along with your sage robes.”

Soren cocked a single brow. “You still have those old rags?”

“I thought you looked quite good in white. It’s a grand disguise of benevolence that hides your horrible personality,” she teased. Soren adopted his usual scowl and rose from his seat.

“hmm…” was all Soren said before allowing her to accompany him back to the main hall.

* * *

 

With a few minutes before their departure, Soren completed his packing by safely tucking away his arch sage robes. The fine white fabric felt smooth and cool to the touch, unstained by the many battles it had been through ten years ago. Despite its familiarity, Soren was reluctant to don the robes again, feeling the small hints of old memories woven within the pale cloth. His rexcalibur was likewise in pristine condition. The bindings had been resewn and new elaborate galdr had been written in red ink on every page and was slipped into the front pouch of his bag.

A knock on his door dragged his attention away as he clasped the last buckle on his small bag. “Come in,” he said, watching Ike quietly close the door behind him with his pack slung over one shoulder.

He gazed intently into Soren’s eyes, searching for the masked anger on his face. “Would it mean anything if I said I was sorry?”

Soren snorted, “You wouldn’t mean it. You hardly even regret helping them.”

“I do regret it though,” Ike shook his head. “I know… I know this isn’t what you wanted. It’s not even exactly what _I_ wanted,” he admitted. “But they need our help and-“ Soren cut him off with a hand on his cheek.

He looked intently into his lover’s eyes with a softened heart, albeit with some measure of leftover reluctance. He tenderly pressed a kiss to Ike’s lips. “Would you be the man I love if you did anything else?” he whispered, repeating Titania’s words that had carved themselves into his mind.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I don’t want to force you to follow me into this job,” Ike said quickly. His lover lightly butted his chin with his forehead.

“There is only one place I ever wish to be Ike, regardless of your foolish actions,” Soren replied. “I will always be by your side. That is a simple fact of our lives we both must accept.” Ike bent his head to give Soren another kiss, longer and more passionate than the last.

They pulled apart and Ike gave him a scrutinizing look. “You just don’t want to babysit Mist and the kids while I’m away,” he accused. Soren rolled his eyes and pulled Ike’s bandana down over his eyes with a small smirk. Ike chuckled and readjusted the band along his forehead.

The wind mage slung his bag over his shoulder and gave the room a final glance before heading for the door. “Let’s go save a queen,” he sighed.

The mercenaries met in the courtyard where everyone stood ready and packed for the long journey ahead. Haar dozed along Cobalt’s scaly side, capturing a few final moments of rest before their long journey while Oscar and Boyd loaded up Soren and Ike’s pack mule with provisions.

Boyd knelt before his small children, looking each in the eye with a solemn gaze. “Arin, you’re the man of the house until I return. Take care of your mother and siblings for me. When I get back we’ll get started on your training, yeah?” His son gave him a tight hug farewell as Gawain clung to his mother’s neck. Mist gave her husband a warm kiss, pulling apart to hear his soft promise of a safe return.

Shinon clapped a hand on Rolf’s shoulder, giving him a careful look in the eyes and a final word of advice before sending him on his way to the center of the courtyard. It was lost amidst the noise of the courtyard for Soren to catch, but he assumed it was something uncharacteristically sober.

A small tug on his robes brought Soren’s attention to little Elena, looking up at him with her large brown eyes. He carefully tugged his robes from her small fingers, looking around to see if anyone else was watching before he knelt to face her like he’d seen Ike do. 

“Can I help you?” he asked politely. She gave him a big smile and threw her arms around his neck in a small hug. He stiffened at the sudden embrace before gingerly patting her small back. She pulled away with a small giggle and held out her hands. Cupped between her little hands was a small wooden pipe. It was a simple carving of polished wood, with carefully carved holes for each note.

“Mama said you can play with the wind. I can play with the wind too!” she said proudly. “Uncle Rolf carved me a new one. So you get this one, cause it’s old. I don’t need it anymore.”  Soren blinked a few times before reverently accepting the small gift, feeling the smooth wood beneath his fingers.

“When you come back home can we play the wind together?” She asked expectantly. The mage dumbly nodded, watching as she broke out into a big grin before scampering back to her mother’s side to wave goodbye to the rest of the family.  He carefully tucked the pipe away into a small pocket of his back, letting it sit snugly between his rolled parchments and inkwells.

Finally, the four selected mercenaries gathered before Lord Haar, who carefully measured out a specific amount of warp powder for each member.

“Keep your mind clear for only a moment, and be ready for the hit,” Haar cautioned.

“The hit?” Rhys asked nervously. The Talregan lord decided not to answer and dropped the powder on Rhys’s head. An elaborate red seal appeared beneath his feet and he faded with a flash. He quickly did the same to Rolf before turning to Soren and Ike.

“We will arrive at Noctem in five days time with our currently set pace. Meet us there as soon as you are able,” Haar said before Greil’s retreat disappeared with a flash. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite things about Ike is how he's really an ideal hero despite being so socially awkard and never smiling... ever. out of all Fire emblem franchise main characters he is the only one that never smiles... ever. It's hilarious. Despite his resting bitch face he's still great though. 
> 
> He was raised on a weird form of the agrarian myth and became an honest, benevolent individual. Somehow the poor kid keeps getting more titles, more money, women, fame, etc. But in the end he just wanted to go home and be normal and happy with his gay boyfriend. But because he can't make those selfish choices he always agrees to help other people, even knowing the incredible risks involved. He's a heroic protagonist because he took risks, gave up army funds to help the enemy in PoR (Soren was right. "Idiots...." is a true statement), and always did the right thing despite the fact that it would shoot himself in the foot. But it's also a good thing he has someone a bit more... expedient in his life. Cause without Soren poor Ike would be used and abused for being too nice. :P 
> 
> Character rambles. haha. Thanks for reading guys!


	6. Looking for Leads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ike and his small party arrive at Daein. The party searches for some leads to Micaiah's whereabouts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years everybody! Things were super busy this week so my chapter is up a bit late. I also have this bad habit of watching the Great British Baking Show while writing to give me some background noise, so every once in a while as I’m trying to figure out what adjective or descriptor I want to use I accidentally use foody words instead of words that I want. I’ll stop doing that now… (I also apologize if there *are* foody words in there, cause this chapter ain't beta read... or even alpha read... haha >>). 
> 
> This week was a little bit of a writer's block week. It wasn't even real writer's block. I already have a decent idea of how events will play out for the book. It's just a struggle to actually write the stuff at times. Especially when they're portions of the story I think are boring but relevant. If it's boring to write, I always worry it might be boring to read. :( Please let me know if this was a boring chapter! 
> 
> Also, after this week school starts up again! Yay! And... you know... ugh... Love school and learning, hate the stress and demands of life. :\ So I can no longer assure you all that the chapters will be weekly. It's not going to be a hiatus or anything, I can't stand letting something sit, but it will be somewhat inconsistent. The goal is to give you all the weekly updates, but forgive me if the reality is more like every other week or so. Good thing I give you 5-10 pages a week, right? :D
> 
> Edit: Beta read and added writing bits 4/4/18

General Tauroneo expanded his search to the outskirts of the city two days after Micaiah’s disappearance. After five he added more patrols along the rural routes. The morning of the tenth day the general was ready to send out scouts to neighboring provinces. If not for his king’s direct orders the veteran soldier would have declared the crisis public. He paced the smooth stone floor of the keep’s eastern tower, steadily trudging his way back and forth while his companion loomed over a large table clothed in papers of various sizes.

“General, it is ill-advised to stand too close to the anchor point,” Pelleas pointed out offhandedly, carefully poring over a pair of detailed maps of Daein. One map of every detailed city, hamlet, town, and village across the country, and another with geographical features with marks of ruins, mines, and forests. Small wooden ticks were scattered on several locations to display the ground already covered by their forces.

“I still don’t agree with his majesty’s decision to hire foreign mercenaries for an internal, and rather pivotal, matter,” Tauroneo muttered.

Pelleas looked up from his maps to see the creases stretched across the older general’s brow. “While this may be true for most mercenary bands, the Greil Mercenaries are known as Tellius’ best for a reason, general.”

“If others ever find out that we hired outside forces to search for our queen the public’s opinion of our military, not to mention their opinion of his majesty, will fall under scrutiny. Not all of Daein sees the Greil Mercenaries as heroes,” Tauroneo replied. It was a fair point. Daein had experienced more war than peace during the kingdom’s existence, and their greatest battles came from crossing blades with the famous band.  

“Mercenaries aren’t held under the same restraints as the army of a country,” Pelleas retorted. “Soldiers must be commanded and kept within borders. If you want someone found without the burden of a banner and beneath the public eye, you call upon those who aren’t bound to a master.”

A disapproving grunt was the only response the counselor received before the entrance opened to admit his majesty, dressed in fine Daein regalia. Despite the tribulations of that morning, Sothe had adopted a persona of royal grace to meet the demands of the kingdom. Meetings, audiences, public displays, and all matters of politic for the past few days had yet to wear upon his regal countenance. His façade quickly faded when his attendants closed the door behind him. His prim posture drooped wearily, and circlet and cape were discarded on the desk as he threw himself on the chair beside Pelleas with a sigh.

“They aren’t here yet?” Sothe asked irritatedly as he rubbed his hands over his face.

Pelleas gave the elaborately designed circle a glance before turning back to his map. “They should be any minute now.” The top of the eastern tower was designated as the summoning room for the keep. Few ventured to this part of the castle due to its dark history as the lair of the late Lord Izuka. Behind these murky stone walls, the madman experimented and practiced dark techniques that would later become the Feral drug. The entire tower was structured without any large orifices save for a few necessary arrow slits along the outer wall of the stairwell. All chambers from the roof to the foundation were carefully enclosed to hide the numberless stains and scars of the past.

Despite his more horrifying creations, Izuka had also been the primary producer of Daein’s supply of warp powder during the Reign of the Mad King. The pale blue substance was a complicated assortment of reagents that still confounded their alchemists. The majority of their stockpile was currently used for emergencies, such as finding a missing queen.

“How was the morning audience?” Pelleas asked, pouring Sothe a cup of wine from a pitcher on their table. The monarch gratefully accepted the offering and shrugged his shoulders.

“They don’t suspect anything fortunately. But there have been a growing number of requests to visit the queen from several court members, and they’re all a bit persistent,” he replied, taking a small sip of juice. “I don’t know how much longer I can avoid all the ladies of the court.”

Pelleas pensively hummed, glancing over the maps again for a few seconds before turning back to his king. “Maybe Micaiah will head to Talrega for warmer weather?”

“I didn’t realize Daein had a “warmer” part of the country,” Sothe said dubiously.

The spirit charmer sighed. “We don’t. But I wish we did. It’d be a perfect excuse for her to withdraw from court life for the rest of the season. Then we’d have more time.”

“If only,” Sothe agreed.

A small whisper of wind drew the attention of the three members as the red lines engraved in the stone began to glow. The group retreated near the entrance of the room, watching intently as the elaborate circle of runes and lines cast a pale red light in the room. A high pitched ringing noise could be softly heard in the room and the tower gave an unexpected shudder that had the group stumbling for balance.

“Did Haar send them one at a time or all together?”  Sothe asked nervously.

Pelleas’ brow furrowed as the light brightened to nearly blinding. “I… don’t know,” he said before a large pulse of light threw them against the doors. “I think he sent all four at the same time!” He yelled as the shrill noise grew louder, echoing throughout the room. “Behind the desk, quick!” The three stumbled to the far side of the room, huddling together as another pulse beat against the fine oak wood.

With a final pulse of light, the noise and light faded as quickly as it came. The counselor released the breath he’d been holding and removed his hands from covering his ears before carefully peeking over the top of the desk to see four limp figures at the center of the room. “Please don’t be dead,” he whispered as they emerged from their barricade and rushed to the new arrivals.

A glimpse of blue hair made Sothe pause from his approach. “Ike??” He said disbelievingly before rushing to kneel beside the unconscious hero. The king gazed with no small amount of awe at his past idol, gone from his world ten years ago after saving the world at his side. The years had done little to change the champion. His dark blue hair had grown a little longer, still held back by his customary green bandana, and his arms had earned a few more scars from untold battles. Ragnell remained sheathed in a plain scabbard at his side, complementing his inconspicuous leathers and tunic.

While Sothe worried over Tellius’ heroes, Pelleas locked onto the still form beside Ike with hooded eyes. It was a man he didn’t expect to see again. At least, not in his lifetime.  Long black hair pooled on the ground, framing a young and sharp face, their brand a red splash on a white canvas of smooth skin. The beauty of his mother tainted by the complexion and humanity of his mad mortal father. The unknown only living son of King Ashnard and blood heir to the throne of Daein. Soren.

“They’re out cold,” his majesty’s words caught the counselor’s attention. “Thank Ashunera they’re still breathing,” he gently shook Ike’s shoulders, letting out a relieved sigh when he heard a small groan slip from the veteran warrior. “Let’s move them away from the tower to somewhere private and comfortable. Pelleas, if you could make cert,ain that we have a clear route to the guest rooms away from any onlookers. Tauroneo and I will be right behind you. It looks like we might have some luck on our side for this chaos after all.”

The spirit charmer gave a single stiff nod before turning towards the doors. “Yes… luck,” he muttered.  

* * *

Ike was awakened by a steady throbbing pain in his limbs. Light pounded at his eyes, piercing into his head like a hammer on a nail. His attempt to let out a heavy groan came out as little more than a wheeze of air and his limbs felt like lead. Ike’s experience with alcohol could be counted on one hand, but the memory remained with him forever; the loud noises, the pounding headache, the sluggish weight that makes a man feel like he’s still drowning in the bottle.

This was very similar, but worse. Much worse.

The former general quietly laid where he was, slowly taking in his surroundings and the state of his being. Soft fabric beneath his fingertips, sunlight filtering through the windows, and the sounds of a crackling fire in the hearth. His mind slowly recalled the past events. Haar had thrown blue powder in his face, warning them of… a hit. Was this it? It felt like a hit… or more of a bombardment. The sound of a door opening forced him to crack open an eye, glimpsing dark hair before he had to squeeze them back shut.

“Soren?”

“Not quite, General Ike,” the soft voice of Daein’s counselor replied. “But your companion is awake and waiting to see you. I simply came to provide some relief.” To Ike’s sensitive ears he heard every footstep the spirit charmer took as he came to stand over his prone form.

“What about the others? Are they all right?” Ike slurred.

“I had to take care of Rhys first,” Pelleas replied vaguely, slowly waving a mending rod over his body. “But they’re all right, general.”

“Not a general,” he corrected with a mumble. Breathing a little easier as the pain in his body slowly faded.

“My apologies. I admit we didn’t expect to see you and your tactician here.” Ike carefully opened his eyes to see Pelleas’ face hovering above him with a pale glow from the mending rod casting a soft light around them. Pelleas remained fairly similar to what Ike had seen ten years ago, with a bit more confidence in his shoulders and longer hair held back in a long braid. The former ruler of Daein had thrived in his new role as Micaiah’s personal aide and carried himself with much more self-assurance. “When did you both rejoin the mercenaries?”

Ike carefully tested his limbs until he was satisfied that the pain had ceased. He stretched out his arms above his head to feel a satisfying crack across his back. “We haven’t. We arrived only a week ago to visit family for the winter. Your message sounded dire enough to warrant our involvement, though.”

“In that case, thank you for your help… Sir Ike?” Pelleas suggested.

“Just Ike is fine,” the hero assured him as he jumped up from the bed. “Any chance they’re waiting for us in a kitchen or a mess hall?”

The counselor smiled and led the way to the door. “The warp powder has been known to leave the user exhausted on a number of levels. We were expecting you to be famished.” _And thankfully all in one piece_ , the counselor thought to himself as he led the way down the empty hallway towards a small private room with table and chairs. His companions were there as Pelleas had said. Rolf had just started to wolf down his meal of roast and potatoes with winter greens, while Rhys shakily sipped at a salty broth. Soren had remained standing close to the door, finally relaxing the moment he saw Ike enter with Pelleas.

“Ike, you’re all right,” the mage’s tired face brightened a bit as he came closer to thoroughly examine him from head to toe.

“I’m fine, Soren. Just starving,” Ike replied, placing his hand on his lover’s lower back to guide him to the table of steaming food. He loaded two plates with food, extra meat for himself, a little bit of everything for his companion, and clear water from the pitcher for both of them. While he wolfed his food down, Pelleas left to allow them time to recover.

“Are you all right Rhys?” Rolf asked worriedly as he tore a bite off a warm roll.

The frail bishop looked up from his soup to give the young man a wan smile. “I’ll be all right Rolf. I’ve just never felt so… hurt?"

The young archer nodded his head in agreement. “I know what you mean. I felt like I got into a bar fight… and lost.”

“You’ve been in a bar fight before?” Ike asked in surprise. “When?”

Rolf blushed. “Um… with Shinon and Gatrie a few years ago. Gatrie ended up flirting with the wrong woman and her husband had friends. Big friends,” he stared at the last scraps on his plate with wide eyes as he remembered the experience. “I also realized I don’t do well with alcohol.”

“Sounds like something that would happen with those two,” Soren muttered as he cut into his meal.

“Did you at least win?” Rhys piped in.

Rolf made a face, “I guess we won if you count the barkeep’s bouncers. I learned to bring along Boyd or Titania after that.”

“Sounds like you learned quite the lesson then,” Ike mused with a shake of his head, taking a gulp of clear water before the entrance doors swung open to admit their hosts. King Sothe, consort to Queen Micaiah and acting head of Daein, entered the room with his general and counselor behind him.

 The mercenaries began to rise from their seats to greet the king until he held a hand out to put them at ease. “Please, friends treat each other as equals in this room. If there is anyone I should be showing reverence to it is you,” he said. “Thank you for answering my summons, Ike.” He smiled admirably at the Hero of Tellius. “It was a great stroke of luck that brought you to us.”

“We’re here to help in any way we can, Sothe,” Ike assured him. “You letter was a bit vague, though. Do you have any idea who could have taken her? Or why?”

Sothe gestured for Pelleas and Tauroneo to take a seat, grabbing his own chair at the end of the table and steepling his fingers together. “No… We do not. Pelleas has been working on figuring out who may have been involved, but our efforts have yet to bring any leads.”

“What _do_ you know about her kidnapping? Or if she was kidnapped at all?” Soren queried. His tone and demeanor changed from Ike’s quiet companion to his public role of a cold and calculating tactician. Few knew of any other side to the branded mage, and fewer still could withstand his steely gaze and natural defiance. From his place at Sothe’s right hand, Pelleas glimpsed beyond the stickler tactician to see a character meant for politics, intrigue, and strategy. He dismissed the thought momentarily to answer.

“She was taken nearly ten days ago during the night. His majesty was the last to have seen her after she had awakened from a restless sleep. The next morning the main suite had shown signs of a scuffle. Broken vase, inkwell spilled, windows to the balcony wide open, and the guards we have discreetly interrogated had no recollection of hearing anything throughout the night,” Pelleas reported. “Considering her majesty has yet to present herself to us since then we deduced that it had to be abduction. But as to the culprit we have nothing. No letters of threat or ransom, no proclamations or written monologues. She’s gone.”

“Any suspects?”

He shook his head. “There are plenty of people who disapprove of the current monarchy for one reason or another, but no one that would kidnap her in secret. It would make more sense to assassinate her in public, or at least leave some message.”

“So they want her for something specific,” Soren concluded.

The counselor slowly nodded. “Yes. I believe that is the case. But once again I can’t imagine what for.”

“She was the vessel of the goddess of chaos before becoming a queen. Perhaps a… cult?” Rhys suggested.

“Your guess is as good as any,” Sothe shrugged. “Maybe we’ll need to send men out to the churches in the city,” he pondered aloud.

“I’m not too sure what assistance we can provide without any leads, we aren’t exactly an investigation team,” Ike remarked with concern.

“But you have helped in multiple capacities before,” Pelleas rebutted. “The Greil Mercenaries have protected villagers, tracked down bandits, and reclaimed thrones before. Searching for a missing woman is hardly outside of your band’s abilities.”

“Usually we’re fighting or hunting something,” Rolf denied. “Usually we’re given a direction to go, or something. Where would we even start?”

“This may seem a bit outside of the Greil Mercenaries expertise, but if there’s any party that could help us in our search, we believe that your group is the most capable,” Sothe insisted.

Their tactician quietly processed the information given to them, as well as the enormous tasks ahead. It was a hunt for a needle in a haystack, with little idea of a culprit and hardly any clues. “Take us to the room where she was abducted,” Soren ordered.

“Please,” Ike added quickly, lightly elbowing his companion to remind him of manners.

The three Daein heads exchanged a brief look before Sothe nodded. “Pelleas will guide you there. As soon as you are all finished-” The mage interrupted him by immediately rising from his chair with Rolf and Rhys following suit.

“Let’s get this done then,” the tactician gestured towards the door. Pelleas blinked in mild surprise, then gave an assenting nod. Ike took a final bite of his meal before slipping into the hallway after the group.

“Unfortunately, we couldn’t leave the royal apartments untouched for so long,” the spirit charmer apologized as they reached the end of the hallway. “I don’t really know what you’ll be able to pull from the room without the clues we found.”

“We’ll make due,” Soren replied confidently as the double doors were swung open. As Pelleas had said, the room was spotless. Furniture and fixtures were set in place to make it appear as if hardly anyone lived in the royal apartments. A quick glance showed a sitting area placed at the center of the room, with the setup angled to face the glass windows and a set of french doors leading to the balcony. A dark wooden desk had been set against the right wall of the room between the windows and the fireplace, with another set of double doors leading to the master bedroom and beyond on the opposite wall.

“You said there were signs of a struggle, correct?”

The counselor nodded and moved towards the corner of the wall next to the large pair of french doors. “Vase was shattered here. Ah, I also forgot to mention that Sothe said the carpet was wet by the bedroom door.”

The four mercenaries carefully wandered the room with methodical movements. Ike and Rolf each took a side of the room and searched for any leftover physical clues despite the fact it had been cleaned at least three times over by now. The veteran mercenary stood beside Rolf as the archer carefully looked under the desk and furniture.

“Cleaner than an empty church,” Rolf shook his head.

 Ike grunted in agreement and gave another glance around the room. “If you were going to kidnap a queen, how would you do it, Rolf?"

The younger man raised himself from the ground and stared at the window. “It was easiest for them to come through the balcony since there aren’t any guards standing at the entrance like the hallway. Patrols would have blind spots to sneak in and out with ease. What about the locks to the bedroom doors?” Rolf wandered over to verify his half-asked question. “Door locks from the bedroom side. If anything they were lucky that Micaiah came out and saved them the effort of dealing with two people instead of one and unlocking a door. But why didn’t Sothe or the guards hear her?”

“Maybe the vase was sloppy work from the kidnapper?” Ike offered.

“A curse.”

Rolf and Ike’s attention was pulled towards Rhys, who had shakenly seated himself in an armchair. “I can feel the echoes of a curse in this room. I… I’m not as well versed in curse rods. But if no one heard her we could assume it was a curse of silence.”

Soren and Pelleas looked at each other before looking back at Rhys. “Are you sure, Rhys?” the tactician asked.

“I am… mages and charmers sense spirits of nature and the dead. But a curse or a blessing is an alteration of a living soul. Blessings fluctuate like the temperature on a given day. But curses,” Rhys shuddered. “Curses leave signs. Like a chill. I’m more attuned to these things since I’m a bishop, but this room was hit with a curse.”

“That would explain everyone’s lack of awareness then,” Pelleas concluded. “Her majesty was immobilized. Possibly after a brief struggle.”

“Hmm,” Soren replied, opening his senses to the spirits around him in an effort to capture Rhys’ perspective. He could barely feel the presence of any wind in the room, especially with the windows closed and the fire in the hearth burning up the air. Everything felt flat, stuffy, and closed. “Does this curse have a trail, Rhys?”

“I can’t quite tell. It’s everywhere in the room. Whatever hit Micaiah was strong,” the bishop replied 

The tactician nodded in agreement and marched over to throw open the double doors. Fresh air poured into the room, filling the place with a chilly breeze and unfiltered sunlight that invigorated Soren’s senses. Immediately he felt the wind swirling about the room, feeding the fire in the hearth, carrying scents and sounds to Soren like offerings for him to pick and choose from. Everything came in clearer detail to his eyes.

Small shadows flitted about Pelleas like moths to an open flame. Spirits of darkness danced about the spirit charmer in a constant whirl while the wind flowed around him like a parted sea. Gentle caresses of air brushed by Rolf and Ike, diffusing their smells to nothing in the wind, while Rhys’ pale figure huddled in the chair.

“Oh my, I think I’m starting to see something,” Rhys commented. Someone responded, but Soren had withdrawn from the conversation as he stared about the room.

A small break within the currents flow caught the archsage’s attention as he turned to the bedroom doors. At the very front of the door the wind seemed to be… slower? Carefully the mage shuffled to the threshold stared at the empty air, reaching out a steady hand to lightly brush against an invisible current.

He pulled back his hand in surprise.  “It’s cold,” he whispered in awe. Wind that was slow, sluggish, and low in temperature. What was this current? With a bit more force the mage reached out and grabbed the small thread of cold air, feeling the breeze nip at his fingertips as he gave it a small pull, watching it stretch like a string.

“Soren?” Ike queried.

“I think I have something,” Soren and Rhys said at the same time.  They both looked at each other in surprise before the bishop gestured to the open balcony doors.

“The curse has a small trail. It’s rather weak now that we’ve opened the windows. But I can barely catch a hint of it. If we go now I think we’ll have a lead. Literally.” Rhys said excitedly.

“How do we know the trail will lead all the way to Micaiah?” Ike asked 

“For as long as the curse was active we’ll have a trail. It will at least give us an idea of where she’s going,” Rhys reasoned.

“What about you, Soren? What have you found?” The blue-haired hero turned to the mage.

“I sense something in the wind. Something I’ve never felt before. Wind spirits are usually a variety of speeds and temperatures. This air is almost like… an aura of a person. It’s something strange, but it also has a trail of a kind,” Soren explained. “It could lead the same way as Rhys’ curse trail, or it could lead elsewhere.”

Ike nodded in understanding. “Right. We follow both as far as we can then. Pelleas,” he turned to the counselor. “Tell Sothe that we’re following a potential lead. Have him send Tauroneo after us when he gets the chance. We might have this solved sooner than you think.”

Pelleas gave an anxious nod before darting from the room. The head of their small party held a hand out to help Rhys rise from his chair and turned towards the open door.  “Let’s follow these snakes,” he said with a tinge of excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so y'all know I might add a bit more introspection from Pelleas about Soren's heritage. As of right now, the only people I know of that are aware of Soren's roots are Dheginsea, Pelleas, and Kurthnaga. Over the past ten years Dheginsea *might* have told Nasir and Ena, but for the sake of my story she will not have. But this was something I really wanted to reflect on in Pelleas' mind, considering he was the first to really figure it all out. The 'what if Soren had been king? What if the best military mind in the country had taken the throne of Daein?' sort of thing. It would have given a bit more insight into Pelleas' character and even a different perspective on Soren. I might come back to this chapter to add it, or I might even give a little time to a later chapter to add it. I don't know. 
> 
> This is basically all y'all getting my rough draft of the work. Even though I have a decent plot in mind for this story, the ideas in my head are constantly changing. I might go back to later chapters and add new conversations and different contexts, or I might alter bits of the story that may make future chapters a bit confusing. I will always make an effort to let you all know if I've changed anything. So sorry for this sloppy mess of writing. But that's what happens when I write and post as I go. :P 
> 
> Next weeks plan: oost Chapter 7. Beta read chapter 4 (maybe 5 if I'm proactive). 
> 
> Thank you so so much for reading guys. Those commentators and kudos are my manna in the wilderness. <3


	7. Smoked Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Greil Mercenaries find a sour end to their lead. Disturbing clues are gathered, and ominous threats take form. 
> 
> But at least no one died yet. So that's good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Chapter Seven, ah yes. Once again, I haven't beta read this yet. I just really wanted to get this on here, cause I'm leaving town tomorrow and won't be able to post while I'm away. So here y'all go! I hope I'll be able to get the next chapter up at some point the week after when I have better access to wifi. Until then enjoy this adventurous chapter. 
> 
> Once again I had a lot more in plan to write, but then it always goes a slightly different direction from what I expected... oh well. This also has some slightly more... violent writing. So I'm pondering if it's enough to up the rating to M... let me know if I should in the comments section, cause I don't want to disturb anyone who may avoid these sorts of things. :\ 
> 
> Anyways, next week is chapter 8 work and beta reading chapter 6. Hopefully I don't get any ideas in my head to change chapter six too much. If I do though I'll let you all know when I post the next chapter. Thanks for reading guys!
> 
> 4/4/18: Heavy beta reading this chapter. Alteration to some details concerning Daein's commercial transportation. Much more fitting really. Glad I did it. Now I die in peace... OTL

Soren and Rhys’ magic trails led the Greil Mercenaries from the castle into the depths of the city. Ike and Soren hid their more obviously colored features with hooded cloaks and Ragnell’s prominent pommel was wrapped with a clean rag to avoid any scrutinous gazes. From streets to alleyways the group wove their way from the wealthier estates near the main keep to the lower trade districts in the outskirts of the capital until they finally reached the busiest part of the city.

Nevassa’s enormous southwestern gates, known as the Wyvern’s Wings, acted as the transportation hub of the city. The ground levels bustled with numerous caravans from the main roads traveling to storehouses and merchant stores in the higher commercial districts, while the landings of tall buildings were cleared for Daein’s trademark wyverns to roost and unload their heavy packages from farther beyond in Gallia and Phoenicis. A decade had transformed Nevassa from a cold and dark military fortress into a flourishing center of commerce. Peace and freedom encouraged the flow of trade, and with it, profit. 

Although Daein was prominently known for being the main supplier of air trade, they still heavily relied upon road travel for their imported goods. The lifeblood of the capital’s economy flowed from century-old routes between Crimea’s western road and Begnion’s southern highway, both of which conjoined to an enormous grounded highway to the gates of the climbing city.  Everything that Daein didn’t have organically in their country came from the highways. Paved in stone and wide enough for four carts to travel in either direction, it was the primary source of goods that gave merchants in the upper districts access to fine silks and spices from Begnion, and ripe harvests from Crimea.

The Wyvern’s Wings served no only as distribution center, but as a collection of private and public storehouses. Amongst the dozens of long two-story buildings workmen loaded carts with winter supplies of grain, blankets, dried fruits, and salted meat that would travel to the poorer parts of the city and the outlying regions for winter preparations.  

Lost amongst the sprawling warehouses the mercenary band reached the end of their search.  Soren’s trail became slightly fainter as the winds began to mix and muddle amongst each other. Flapping wyvern wings and masses of foreign arrivals threatened to smother his small thread of cold air. Rhys was hardly faring better, with his brow furrowed in concentration as he wandered the emptier roads with intense concentration.

“I didn’t think they would stay so close to the castle,” Rolf remarked as he glanced inside a pair of open warehouse doors. Large barrels of oil, coal, and wood filled the building, with several sweat soaked laborers shoveling and rolling their loads onto a large cart.

Ike nodded in agreement as he kept close beside Soren, knowing how vulnerable the mage was when he concentrated. “Maybe it was a ransom kidnapping after all and they just forgot to leave a note? It’s not the first time we’ve run into idiot bandits.” He smirked at the memory of the brigands his father had faced in the past.

“If it were that simple I don’t think they would have been able to cast curses,” Rolf sighed as they turned a corner. Soren held a hand up to pause the group in their movements. He gave the space in front of him a furious glare, reaching out with his hand in search of something, groping around the air for an unseen thread.

The wind sage finally let out an angry huff and allowed his hands to drp. “The currents here are too strong. To many auras and flows.” He tsked in displeasure.

“Ten days wouldn’t normally give you a trail for this long anyways, Soren,” Ike consoled him. “At least it got us somewhere.”

“Over here!” Rhys called, pulling their attention to the third set of large industrial warehouse doors. The others joined him in the warehouse filled with hay, oats, and other forms of livestock feed. “The curse must have worn off here,” the bishop explained, wandering towards the center of the room. “This is where our trail ends it seems.”

Rolf let out a tired huff. “You mean at a dead end,” he muttered.

Ike barely nodded his head in silent agreement when he caught a small sound in the warehouse. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, a sudden apprehension sharpening his senses to catch the smallest noises, from the blood pulsing through his body to the sounds of the market barely reaching them as little more than a distant echo. Rolf scuffed his feet on the straw-laid floor while Rhys sneezed away the dusty air. Right next to him he caught the sound of Soren’s shifting robes beside him, and just a bit farther away was the distant sound of shuffling hay.

“Someone’s here,” he quietly murmured to his companions. He held up his hand in a warning signal. Rolf and Rhys to immediately fell into position around Ike, with the healer in the middle and the sniper covering their rear. Soren took the front beside him and carefully examined the warehouse. Ike realized how quiet the room was. Every other warehouse had laborers filling wagons and moving from store to store. Why was this one empty?

“Soren, do a search,” Ike ordered quietly. The mage didn’t have to be told twice as he silently opened a small book of handwritten galdr. Small things that weren’t elaborate enough to be combat spells, but just enough to give the mage some much-desired clarity of their area. Less than a moment later he whispered the unintelligible spell, sending the softest breeze throughout the lower levels and spiraling upwards through the full expanse of the building.

Soren quietly concentrated, taking in the earthy smell of hay and dried oats, the musty wooden rafters, an odd biting smell that felt vaguely familiar, and the coppery smell of… blood? His eyes flew open as he locked his gaze across the room to a stack of hay bales. Ike followed his gaze and gestured for Rolf to ready his bow while he went to investigate.

The warrior warily approached the towering stacks, catching a whiff of the odd scent Soren had found. As he neared the base of the pile he located the source of the smell, along with the reason why the warehouse was so quiet. Several stiff and bloody limbs could be seen poking from a bale. With chilled blood, Ike pulled out a small dagger from his belt and cut away the ropes of the bale, watching in horror as several stiff bodies tumbled free to the floor.

“Oh dear,” he distantly heard Rhys swoon. Ike ignored the fragile bishop and examined the bodies carefully, searching for their cause of death. Four bodies total in the bale, each pale face with shocked expressions, frozen in place by the final blow seen. He kicked over one corpse and found stab wounds on the back, precise and deep enough to provide a quick end.

“Ike?” Rolf asked nervously. It hadn’t been the first time any of them had seen the dead. Years of battles and war had altered their mindsets to be cold and practical in the face of death and the many faces it wore, whether it be enemies, the innocent, or friends. 

“Split off. Rhys stay with me, Soren and Rolf search the back of the building.” Ike ordered.

“Shouldn’t we summon the city guard?” Rhys asked nervously as he shuffled close to the warrior while Soren led the way into the darker part of the warehouse.  His face was paler than usual, and he refused to look at the stiff bodies at Ike’s feet.

“We need to remain discreet,” Ike shook his head. “After all these years I thought you would have gotten used to blood by now?” He asked with a cocked brow.

The bishop shook his head furiously. “Heavens no, Ike. And I don’t plan on getting used to it in this lifetime either.”

Ike shook his head at his squeamish friend and gave the bodies a final look. “They’ve been dead for a while now. Perhaps around the time of the queen’s abduction?” He guessed before rounding the tower of hay bales to examine a pair of barrels. Outside the smell of blood and death there was something else, he just couldn’t figure out what.

“Ike!” Rolf called, drawing their attention to the back where several more bodies were found. “We found more workers,” the sniper reported. “They’ve only been dead a few hours though.” Ike’s eyes widened, glimpsing up to see six new bodies hidden in the hay that had slowly stained red.

“Those dastards,” Ike cursed as something caught his eye. Nestled safely in the hay were similar small barrels that he had seen earlier. Curiosity piqued, the swordsman leaned closer to investigate, scratching away at the rim of the barrel and pulling his hand back to see his fingertips covered in fine dark powder. The moment everything clicked into place he heard Soren yell his name. Ike instinctively ducked to avoid a flaming arrow, watching in wide-eyed horror as it landed between the bodies and the barrels.  

“Soren! It’s Black Powder!” Ike shouted. “Everyone out, NOW!” He whirled on his heel to push the group towards the main entrance, taking up the rear to cover their backs.

“What about the bodies?!” Rhys cried while Rolf dragged him away.

“Now is not the time for sentiments, Rhys!” Soren snarled beside Ike. They barely reached the entrance before a concussive boom launched them from the warehouse.

* * *

 

A high-pitched ringing noise deafened Ike to the carnage around him. Everything hurt. Again. It was one too many times for one day. He cracked open his eyes and let out a groan, confused at the deadened sounds around him. Less than a hundred yards away the main storehouse had become a roaring blaze, sending large plumes of smoke flying towards the sky. Bright licks of flaming hay flew across the open air, landing on the rooftops of the neighboring warehouses and starting to smolder. The blue haired hero tried to rise, only to feel a heavy weight slung across his abdomen. A quick glance showed the remnants of the warehouse door laying across his body, safely pinning him beneath several hundred pounds of scorched wood and debris.

“Soren…” Ike tried to say, hearing only odd jumbles of noise from his throat. He dazedly scanned the wreckage in search of his companion, spotting a limp, dark form in a small clearing amongst the rubble. He tried to push the weight off his limbs, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness that forced him to keep still. Another glance showed several figures wandering the ruins of the warehouse. A distant shout brought one of them to the mage’s side, with another close by.

Again, the swordsman tried to rise, slowly regaining some clarity as he strained to hear their words as the first figure knelt beside Soren and turned him over. “… idiot… got killed… you’re lucky they got… want them alive… grab him and let’s get out of here before the guard shows up.” The second and larger figure, who Ike could now see was cloaked in a ragged brown cloak with their hood pulled up, scooped up the mage into his arms.

“Soren!” Ike shouted, pushing against the wooden wreckage with renewed strength. His efforts were not unnoticed as the first figure took note of the swordsman’s predicament. Finally his senses came back to him fully and he was able to see the features of a brutish man. A common thug like many Ike had seen. With a gleeful jeer the greasy man sauntered over, standing over Ike imperiously.

“Bad day to be visiting the warehouses, mister,” the ratty rogue grinned. “Thanks for bringing us a prize though. This sort of work gets a bit bland without an extra reward,” he said as his dull iron sword was drawn from its sheath.

“Don’t need any tails, though. Sorry about that,” he apologized as he raised his blade above Ike’s head. The blue haired hero scowled defiantly at the final blow that never landed. His enemy stiffened above him, jerking in surprise as both of them glanced to an arrow lodged through his chest.

Only a small huff of air escaped from the vagabond’s mouth as he fell with a dull thud. Ike glanced to the side to see the golden-haired figure of Lord Leonardo pulling back another arrow to soar after the second bandit running off with Soren in his arms.  His missile was pulled up short by a collapsing beam that knocked the arrow away.

Ike gave another strong heave against the fallen door, feeling it groan in protest and slightly shift, but it wasn’t enough. He gave another push and was soon assisted by the bowman, who strained to hold the large door up high enough for the warrior to wriggle out.

“I need to get to Soren. Do you know where the others are?” He shouted over the roaring flames.

Leo nodded and gestured behind him. Just over his shoulder Ike could see Rhys with an arm slung over Rolf, limping out of the thick smoke into the clear roads beyond. “Go quickly! I will meet you on the other side with reinforcements!”  He shouted above the din. Ike didn’t need to be told twice and took off after the bandit.

Despite his large frame the warrior was able to maneuver through the burning wreckage with ease, using the chorus of flames to hide his pursuit as he slowly closed the distance between his target. The warrior charged after them, a deep anger bubbling in his chest at seeing Soren’s limp body in a stranger’s arms. In his haste he bumped into a large beam, causing it to crumble to the ground and scatter glowing red debris across his path. He cursed under his breath and quickly picked his way across the coals as the smoke began to clear near the open roads a short distance away. Eyes blinded and lungs burning, Ike emerged from the narrow alleyways into the clear road. He swallowed gulps of fresh air, coughing away the thick layers of soot and ash and rubbing at his face.

The streets were empty of any civilians or workers, leaving the roads eerily silent. He whirled about in search of Soren and his kidnapper, eyes landing on the mage’s abductor standing behind several bowmen aiming their arrows directly at Ike. Standing at the head of the small team was a hulking and scarred man, unmasked and proudly displaying himself for all to see. He haughtily gazed down at Ike from atop an overturned wagon.

“Looks like we smoked a rabbit from the hole,” He jeered with a smug grin. Ike glared straight ahead at his opponents, unafraid of being largely outnumbered despite still struggling to breathe. “Too bad you went digging where you shouldn’t have, dog.”

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Ike warned calmly, his stoic aura making several grunts hesitate. The warrior’s hand fell to Ragnell where he felt its hot pommel pulse under his hand.

“A dog of the king, come sniffing where he shouldn’t,” the leader scoffed. “But we’re lucky you came digging with your friend. I’ll make sure to take good care of this one,” he taunted.

Ike’s eyes flashed. “Give him back,” he warned in a low threatening voice. 

“Not for his going price,” he refused with a leer. “Fire!” the bandit leader commanded.

Everything around Ike seemed to slow down as he unsheathed his holy sword, feeling a burning heat descend from his chest to his arms and down the length of the golden blade. A beautiful arc of golden light flew from his horizontal swing, cleanly slicing through the flying arrows, the bows they flew from, and straight into the chest of the four archers. They fell with a cry, leaving their leader stunned and gaping while Ike returned to his ready position.

“Give him back,” Ike repeated darkly. The bandit leader recovered quickly and let out a shrill whistle, summoning a dozen more men to aid him. Four across the street, five from Ike’s rear, and three more beside the bandit leader.

The blue-haired hero smothered his growing anger and remained calm. “I never liked bandits, but I especially hate bandits that terrorize the innocent and kidnap my companions,” he announced. “But I’ll let you make the first move to keep things fair.”

“Kill him, now!” The bandit leader ordered. Several of his cronies hesitated for a moment, uncertain about the terrifying figure before them. When their master repeated his demand a pair of them charged Ike with their blades raised. Ike maintained his still stance as he watched them come closer, readying his blade to parry just as both were shot in the chest.

Ike followed the arrow trail to see Rolf and Leonardo running to his side. On the other side of the street another man cried out as Edward cut him down in a preemptive strike.

“Sorry for our late arrival,” Leo apologized. “I needed to get a new bow for your friend,” he explained as he knocked back another arrow. Ike nodded his head in gratitude and released a relieved smile as Rhys and Rolf joined his side, both covered in soot and smelling like smoke, but alive and well enough to fight.

“Cover me,” he ordered before charging towards the wagon. Edward parried off another blade across the street, holding back the remaining three men while Leonardo provided covering fire. Ike leaped to the side as a handaxe came flying end over end towards his face, he raised his blade in response to send another arc from Ragnell, only to be beaten by Rolf’s deadly missiles that knocked a thug aside. With every swing of a blade and released arrow Ike and his forces drew closer to the wagon, his moves becoming fiercer as he heard his enemy begin to panic.

“Pull back!” The greasy blackguard barked. Ike grunted as his arm was grazed by an arrow from behind. He glanced back to see several more men had flanked their party, forcing Rolf to shift his attention away from the front to cover Rhys. The priest had pulled out the pale violet cover of his scriptures, whispering a soft prayer under his breath while his fellow mercenary struggled to keep the soldiers at bay. Seeing Leo and Edward still occupied across the street, Ike reluctantly pulled back to provide defense to his fellow mercenaries, charging forward to slip past one man’s blade to cut him down before he could get too close. He leaped away from the brigands just in time for Rhys to finish his prayer.

The voice of the saint was heard by the heavens, and a piercing ray of light descended to the earth, striking the criminals with a flash, forcing Ike and his companions to clench their eyes shut against the blinding divine light. With spots still blinking in front of his eyes, Ike stumbled away from his fallen enemies, all struck dumb by the heavenly ray.  

“Ike! They’re getting away!” Rolf called, pulling the warrior’s attention back to the front in time to see a thug go sailing over his head in a great gust of wind that blew his hair from his face. He allowed himself a small, satisfied smile as he followed the path of the victim’s flight to meet Soren’s fiery eyes standing a few feet behind the ringleader of the bandit troupe. The bandit leader was so dumbfounded after watching one of his men blast into the sky that he barely missed snatching back his captive. The mage ran with the wind at his heels towards Ike, moving with surprising speed across the clearing while slipping through the enemy’s slow reach. Ike didn’t wait for his lover to arrive and charged towards the mage, passing right by him to pierce into the enemy’s remaining forces as Soren returned to the safety of Rolf and Leonardo’s defense.

The battle took a drastic turn in their favor. With arrows and spells flying down from the sky, and Edward joining Ike at the front, they soon snuffed out the remaining forces, leaving their opponents drastically outnumbered. The distant sound of hoofprints signaled the arrival of General Tauroneo with a platoon of his men, several donned in Daein mage robes. With a wide sweeping gaze the grizzled veteran absorbed the scene, seeing the Greil Mercenaries and his subordinate surrounded by fallen bodies and covered in soot, warehouses aflame and the streets empty of citizens. He released a weary sigh and raised his hand to dispatch his troops. With the expected speed and efficiency of a well-organized military, the Daein troops parted to round up the few remaining bandits and control the hungry flames.

Ike withdrew to Soren’s side as soon as the Daein forces took over the situation. He lightly brushed his lover’s hand, a small gesture that was received with fingers lacing between his own. The thin mage squeezed him tightly, his face remaining a blank mask as he spoke, “What happened?”

“The warehouse was filled with black powder. One of the bandits set it alight and nearly killed us. We’re lucky to get away as we did,” Ike explained, carefully running his fingers through Soren’s snarled black hair. He pulled back his fingers covered in soot. They stunk of smoke and several places felt a bit bruised.

“Black powder isn’t a native commodity to Tellius,” Soren murmured solemnly. 

Ike nodded slowly, remembering the first time they had both seen it at a festival during their travels. The powder was simple and unassuming to the human eye, but the smallest flame made the powder burst with a loud _pop_. When used in large quantities, the bursts were transformed into concussive and destructive explosions. Seeing it in Tellius was an ill omen to say the least.  

“They also tried to kidnap you,” He added quietly. “He talked about you “going for a price”.”

Soren’s face grew pensive as Ike’s words sank in, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed to red slits. He turned back towards the bound bandit leader and stalked over with the warrior close behind. The short mage loomed over the prone bandit, scrutinizing the bruised and beaten thug for a long moment before addressing him.  “Your employer. Who are they?”

The sweaty ringleader spat out a mixture of phlegm and blood on the charred stone path. “Depends on what telling ya gets me,” he replied. “You promise me freedom and I’ll sing like a birdie for ya,” he added with a toothy grin.  Their conversation caught the attention of Leonardo and Edward, who wandered over to join them a few feet away.

Soren nodded his head, “A reasonable request,” he replied. The bandit leaned back, a bit more relaxed despite being bound and bloody. Leonardo opened his mouth to object, only to be silenced by a raised hand and a look from Ike.

“There’s a bounty out for anyone with marks on ‘em, y’see. There have been people out and about paying a gold bullion for any of the _branded_ brought to ‘em unharmed,” the bandit explained. Ike stiffened, casting a worried glance at his companion before turning back to their captive.

“A whole bullion?!” Edward gawked. “Who in Tellius would pay a whole bullion for branded, of all people?”

The tactician ignored him. “Why the fire then? Was that a trap set for us? What was your purpose for all of this?” He gestured to the charred ruins of Daein’s winter supplies.

The bandit sneered at the mage. “I ain’t tellin’ ye till my ropes are cut, branded filth.” Suddenly the brigand was laying on the ground with blood dripping from his newly broken nose, shrieking at the new painful addition to his many cuts and bruises.

Ike cleaned his bloodied fist on the ragged remains of his cloak. “Be careful how you speak to my tactician,” he warned.  “Why did you burn down the warehouses? Someone must have paid you, so who are they? Are there other bands like you? Have you kidnapped any other branded? Where were they taken?”

The thug merely shook his head, too dazed to answer the mercenary. Soren lightly brushed his hand against Ike’s bicep, looking up at him with calm gaze. “Ike,” he murmured quietly. The blue haired hero took a deep breath to reign in his rage, doing his best to ignore the ruins all around them.

Leonardo cleared his throat to garner their attention. “We found this on the man. I think it may be of some interest to you.” He held out a crumpled letter, slightly torn in some places, but still legible as they unfolded the paper.

“How does _he_ know how to read?” Edward asked dubiously. “The guy barely speaks common tongue!”

His friend shrugged. “Stranger things have been seen.”

 

Soren scanned the contents of the letter while Ike read over his shoulder.

 

  _Marbo,_

  _It’s time. Meet in Nyumbani once it’s done. Remember to clean up after yourself._

 The small slip of paper had several scribbles in the corner of the page. At first it looked like a very sloppy signature, but Soren recognized the small line of ancient language for what it was. 

Vague. Short. But they had a name. Soren looked up from the page to the bandit. “Are you Marbo, then?” He stated plainly.

The man scowled at the mage before looking away. “Dead or escaped,” he growled.  

“So you’re not the leader of this band?” Ike prodded, but the man chose not to answer. “What is that little bit in the corner there?” Ike asked curiously, pointing at the scribble of ancient writing.

“It’s galdr, _Uruk ag omo on atana”_ Soren read aloud for everyone to hear. The page burst into green flames, startling everyone enough to jump away as the flames quickly fell like liquid onto the unfortunate feet of their bandit captive. The bound bandit let out a terrified shriek as the green conflagration quickly traveled up his legs, burning brighter with every second.  

“Put it out!” Leo cried. Ike tore off the remnants of his cloak and tried to smother the green blaze, leaping back as the flames hungrily devoured the cloak instead.  “Make it stop! Noooo!” The bandit cried as the smell of burning flesh began to fill the air. The four of them panicked and began to dig through the ashes, again trying to smother the flames with little success. Soon the flames had grown to a dancing bonfire, swallowing the bandit leader whole and silencing his cries.

“What in Tellius was that, Soren??” Edward cried, staring in horror at the fiery blaze before them.

The mage had paled, which was remarkable considering his creamy complexion. “I have no idea. Galdr doesn’t do that… not without focus at least. And not like these… flames,” he mused, feeling disturbed at the scene he just witnessed.

Ike let out a low curse under his breath. “First a lead, then a fire and an ambush, and now…. This!” he gestured to the green flames, watching in disgust as they reduced the body of their captive to ashes. Nothing was spared beneath those angry flames, not even his bones. The fire ate it all away mercilessly. Even if the man was nothing more than a scummy bandit, he didn’t deserve to be burned alive, no one did. At least in Ike’s eyes. The warrior released an angry growl, turning away from the gruesome scene and walking out towards the empty roads to escape the carnage of the street.  Soren hesitated for a moment before trailing after him from a short distance, leaving Leonardo and Edward to guard the dangerous bonfire from a safe distance.

Ike paced along the empty stretch of city road, taking deep breaths of the ashen air in a futile attempt to clear his nose of the smell, the sound of the hissing flames, and the cries of the fallen. He closed his eyes and withdrew from it all, the terrible consequences of this day and the new fear that had slithered into his chest only ten minutes ago. He didn’t open his eyes as he heard the thumping boots of his companion come to a stop beside him. The smell of smoke had burned away Soren’s usual odor, to Ike’s dismay. He dismissed the thought the moment he felt Soren shift a bit closer to him, pressing his lithe form to his side in silent support, just like always. Ike let out another sigh, this one a bit less heavy than the last.

“I didn’t realize it would kill him,” Soren murmured, “I’m so sorry, Ike.”

The blue haired hero shook his head. “It’s not your fault, Soren. You had no idea that would happen… none of us did. I’m just… I’m angry, even enraged. All of this and we don’t even know why,” he growled. “Not only that but they’re hunting branded! They… they’re hunting you.” That threat seemed to be the worst of all. No longer was it just the fact that they hadn’t experienced this sort of danger in ten years, or that there was a party willing to go to this extent in causing chaos in a city, where no one meant had any ill will towards one another. Tellius was a peaceful continent for once in decades, but now it felt like all their efforts were being challenged within the past twelve hours. It was only all the worse when his companion was a potential victim of these crimes.  

The mage tensed beside his lover, reaching out his hand to slide through Ike’s large arms until it once again entangled with his rough hand. He wouldn’t mislead Ike with false words of assurance, not when there was so much they didn’t know. The smaller man simply clung tight to his companion, taking in a deep breath of the too-warm air.

“What did that galdr say, exactly?” Ike asked softly.

Soren shifted uncomfortably. “It… wasn’t a common phrase. I don’t think most mages would know what it means, let alone be able to say it.”

“But what did it say, Soren?” Ike repeated, opening his eyes to look down at the mage in concern.

He was quiet for several moments, pondering the words in his mind before quietly speaking. “Thy Master Cometh.”

Ike tightened his hold around Soren’s small arm. Ominous words, almost like the final line of a letter, or a slogan for a cult. “I think we have a hint as to who kidnapped Micaiah, then,” he murmured. Soren gave a small nod in agreement. “But how did that bandit know you were branded? I thought everyone saw you as a spirit charmer?” He asked in confusion. 

The lithe mage went stiff. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t get the chance to ask… But now Leonardo and Edward know that I’m… Ike…” the mage trailed away as he felt a familiar sensation creep up from his toes up the length of his spine. It was a familiar feeling, an emotion that had followed him all his life and had haunted him until he escaped the soil of Tellius. Now as they stood upon Daein’s shores he felt it all over again. It was cold. It was bitter. It was fear.

Ike pulled Soren closer, as if to shield him from his personal curse and the world that had cast it upon him. “Things are different in Daein, Soren. People here never cared about background. It was all about strength,” he reassured him. “And I’ll talk to Leonardo and Edward. We just need to finish this last job and then we’re gone. You and me,” he promised softly. “But we need to help them, we need to stop this before it gets any farther, and I need you by my side to do it. Please,” he murmured.

Soren gave a small nod before pulling away, doing his best to keep his stoic mask in place. “We’ll need to talk to Sothe and Pelleas,” he finally said, turning towards the towering keep of Nevassa in the distance . As Ike silently fell beside Soren, the mage could still hear the ominous echoes of his galdr following at his heels. _Thy Master cometh, thy Master cometh, thy Master cometh…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after doing a little digging into the galdr stuff, the ancient language basically translates into backwards japanese. With the help of handy google translator I was able to make that little line there at the end. This chapter was a lot of fun, but I also needed to stop at a point, cause I can't keep writing and not post anything. :P I'll get the rest of this scene up tomorrow along with some more buildup. 
> 
> I also couldn't quite remember if the Tellius Chronicles ever introduced gunpowder into their games... I don't... think they did... at least in PoR I know they don't. It's all crossbows and catapaults but no canons or anything. Also, considering that Tellius civilizations at least developed steel I figured they might as well be on the verge of either discovering gunpowder or having it introduced from outside. For the sake of my story I figured it was something that came from outside. Is this much easier than investing more time building the countries geographical and R&D backgrounds? Why yes it is. Haha. it also makes things exciting when the mysterious enemy has an advantage that the protagonists will struggle with. I obviously won't bring in guns or rifles yet, but you may see "black powder" come into play later on. 
> 
> Thanks again guys! Everybody have an awesome week and I'll see y'all soon! Ish.


	8. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sothe hears the bad news about the kingdom. He makes a decision that requires Pelleas to be persuaded a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it! :P Barely. My out of town experience was great, I just ended up exhausted from all the activities so I kind of burnt out... haha. But I was determined to get something on here before Sunday, so here we are. Also, I think my chapter titles are really boring, so I'm just going to cut them out. haha. 
> 
> Quick update: I realized that I needed to add just a little bit more information to chapter seven, so the very end of the chapter continues on for a little bit. If you read this work after 1/20/2018 then you can ignore this update. If you're a reader before then you can go back and catch those last few paragraphs. Other than that I give you this next chapter! 
> 
> What else did I have to tell you guys... Oh yeah! I didn't do beta reading this week... haha. And I probably won't for a little while actually. :P School has picked up and I am kept rather busy now. So the writing is just going to be... sloppy... for a bit. :\ Sorry about that. Anyways, next week is chapter nine. Let's see what else we can do with these characters, yeah? 
> 
> Comments and kudos are my manna from heaven guys! :D They feed me so good.

Just along the fringes of the barricaded warehouses, a sizeable crowd had gathered to stare at the pillar of smoke climbing like a dark beacon towards the sun. General Tauroneo and his men were holding the crowds back, urging them to return to their business while calls of distress were sounded from the crowd, drowning out any words of assurance offered by the city guard. Amidst the chaos the small party of the Greil Mercenaries slipped away to the castle. Far from the growing chaos and safely tucked away in the towering keep’s empty halls, Pelleas and Sothe anxiously awaited their return that night.

Within the same meeting hall as that morning, Leonardo gave his report, keeping his details short and concise from the moment he found Ike until the end when their only living hostage had met an unexpected end. Ike and Soren jumped in every now and then to offer a detail or two while Pelleas and Sothe quietly listened, waiting for them to finish.

“We were able to slip through the crowds gathering on the streets. But the damage to the winter warehouses left nearly all of them… compromised,” Leonardo finally finished, feeling a drip of sweat trail down his back in the sweltering room. After battling within an entire district burning to the ground the warmth of the crackling fireplace left most of the arriving members sweltering.

Sothe stared pensively into the grain of the table, brow furrowed over his wolfish eyes while he rested his chin on his knuckles. “What’s left?”

His friend and subject grimaced. “The kindling supplies. None of the wood or coal was touched.” 

The king consort leaned back in his chair to silently process the irony of the statement. Everything harvested, manufactured, and carefully organized went up in literal smoke. Grain, blankets, feed for livestock, enough supplies to last his entire kingdom the harsh Daein winters, carried away with the flames and the wind. Meanwhile all they had left was fuel for their hearths. He mentally set aside his panic at this new catastrophe and took a deep breath. _One thing at a time_ , he said to himself. _Micaiah wouldn’t panic about this, we’ll figure this out after we decide our next step._

“Where is Nyumbani?” Soren asked, interrupting the king’s thoughts. “I’ve never heard of the place.”

Pelleas shook his head, keeping his gaze fastened upon the flames of the fireplace with his fingers steepled and eyes lost in thought. “You wouldn’t have. It’s a desert city of galvanized branded communities. Tellius has apparently had a number of hidden branded hamlets throughout the continent, but they all gathered under a single band into a tenably sized kingodm within the past eight or nine years. It’s rather different from Daein or Crimean monarchies since they are ruled by an elected leader of the people. Something that they apparently call a democracy. They’ve even claimed to be independent of Begnion’s theocratic rule.”

“A country ruled by the branded?” Ike replied dubiously. “How is that possible?”

“It was difficult for many to accept at first. Even fewer acknowledged such a civilization until they recently became one of Tellius’ major suppliers of rare metals and minerals. Since then it’s become a trading hub, perfectly located at the crossroads between Begnion, Goldoa, Phoenicis, and Kilvas. I have personally never been there, but I have heard that it is grows more magnificent every year,” the counselor explained.  “The Branded are more open with their identities, and it isn’t uncommon to see many of them publicly display their brands. But it makes me wonder how long this… bounty… has been out now. Or how it may be affecting an entire kingdom of them on the southern coasts.” 

“It’s a good place for this Marbo person to go, apparently,” Rolf mumbled, resting his tired head on the table. 

“It’s common for people to recognize branded, then?” Ike continued. That easily explained how an oaf-of-a-thug was able to recognize Soren’s brand. “What about the…” he hesitated.

Pelleas blinked in surprise, “You two really have been gone for a long time,” he realized. “Our queen publicly announced that she was branded six years ago, and Begnion has even been challenged by a new entity composed of branded for independence. There are still… difficulties amongst most of Tellius’ localities, but persecution of the branded has been outlawed for years in Daein and the Laguz kingdoms.”

Soren quietly chewed on the new information, uncertainty filling his chest. He had been greatly disturbed when the bandit had easily recognized him as a branded, especially when he usually went under the guise of a spirit charmer. It was strange to think it was so easy for an ignorant thug to recognize his abominable heritage, and even stranger to think that the branded were able to find some form of civilized living (in a desert of all places). Although branded were technically provided protection under simple government clauses, it hardly meant that the practice was dutifully carried out.

“Have there been any reports of branded disappearing? Any abductions of the like?” The mage asked suddenly. Pelleas blinked in surprise.

“Not that I know of. Why do you ask?” he responded warily.

Soren hesitated to respond, so Ike did it for him. “The bandits tried to kidnap Soren. Said he went for a pretty price. Apparently, someone is buying branded. A gold bullion per head.”

“Or in this case a hundred silver,” Edward added, throwing a small satchel onto the table. The loosely tied purse fell loose, allowing a handful of shiny coins to clatter onto the wooden surface of the table. This new piece of evidence piqued everyone’s attention as Pelleas slid a coin off the table and into the palm of his hand, carefully examining the surface to see the imprints of three lilies.

“You didn’t mention that Soren was kidnapped in your report,” the counselor mused pointedly at Leonardo. “This is Crimean minted silver,” he observed curiously, examining both sides with renewed interest. “This was on the bandits I take it?”

“Enough silver to count for a gold bullion,” Leonardo nodded.

“Where did these come from?” Ike queried.

“It was in a cart filled with stolen goods. It stood out from the rest of their loot so I took it,” Edward shrugged.

“You took it?” Leonardo asked with a cocked brow and a crook of his mustache.

“For evidence!” his friend replied defensively, causing the blond archer to roll his eyes.

“Foreign currency on local bandits makes things a bit more complicated,” Ike pursed his lips.

“Well, they _are_ bandits, they very well could have just stolen a noble’s purse on the road,” Rolf suggested.

“The only people who carry entire bullions are nobility and wealthy bourgeoisie. We haven’t had any visiting dignitaries besides Lord Bastian in the past month. Even highwaymen recognize his ensign and are wise enough to avoid it. Besides, what kind of bandits steal a purse and doesn’t spend any of it?” Pelleas replied.   

Soren dragged the velvet purse closer, noting the dust that blemished its surface with age and seeing golden stitching partially pulled apart at the seams, leaving only a frayed corner. It was vague, but he could barely catch a semblance of a noble crest on the surface.  “Any emblem you recognize?” he asked, holding the purse out to the Daein elites. Pelleas peered at the purse’s designs, looking past the dirtied thread to catch the small details.

“I think I can see the corner of a lily, so it’s a Crimean house. But these edges here,” the counselor pointed towards the center portion of what looked like a leg. “Show that it’s a noble house instead of royalty. I can’t tell which one though.”

“How many noble houses have leggy things in them?” Edward shrugged. “And what does a purse have to do with Micaiah, anyways?”

“This may be speculation, but the path to Nyumbani may not lead us to Micaiah. She could have been kidnapped and sold to this buyer in Crimea,” Pelleas explained with the same tone he used to explain a strategy or lesson to Micaiah. “The bandits had a full purse of a hundred silver that could have been several days or ten days old. They might have decided to wait until things died down before spending or exchanging the money on the off chance someone in the city knew about the bounty.”

“That still doesn’t explain the fire or the note they had about Nyumbani,” Soren rebutted. “Not only that, but Micaiah isn’t the only branded in this city. I doubt a band of thick brigands were smart enough to kidnap a queen in her own palace. They had no magic user at hand to cast the curse, and we have no solid proof that these bandits had any close ties to the culprit of her abduction.”

“But it does give us a lead to a suspect, and the bandit did have a letter on his person regarding Marbo, who we can also deduce is a mage by the galdr. Whether it was bandits or another party is irrelevant as long as we find whoever is the buyer,” Pelleas replied.

“And what buyer was stupid enough to kidnap a queen?” Soren replied. “A suspect like that makes little sense when we have a mage suspect with a name and a place.”

“The lead to Nyumbani is just as speculative as the lead to Crimea. I believe there is a stronger likelihood of Micaiah being in Crimea, especially when branded are being sold for bullion bounties,” The spirit charmer insisted.

“Then I don’t need to speculate that as counselor of an entire kingdom you’re an idiot,” Soren replied icily.  “A suspicious letter with galdr that bursts into green flames that consume flesh like parchment. A perfect location to blend and hide your captives amongst an entire city of branded, and a name for a suspect that is obviously a mage who may be capable of casting a curse on the queen. A band of brigands with a pouch of coins from Crimea is hardly a strong enough argument to warrant sending us on a goose chase when our real lead is in Begnion.”

“Although I can understand your argument, I strongly feel that Micaiah will be in Crimea,” the counselor insisted, feeling his frustration rise with the critical tactician.

“And I suppose it was your strong feelings that made you think clumping your warehouses within twenty feet of each other was a good idea as well,” Soren sneered. 

“Enough!” Sothe declared, cutting off Pelleas’ half formed retort with a stern look. “I think it would be best if we all remembered whose side we’re all on. We obviously have two leads to Micaiah’s whereabouts, but now we decide. Where will you search, commander?”

Ike looked up at the king, breaking free from his tired stare at the Crimean coins to see all eyes had turned to him. His tactician looked at him expectantly while Pelleas’ eyes had a pleading look. A familiar weight descended on his shoulders as the decision once again fell upon him. He let out a sigh and flipped the coin in his hands, quietly pondering their options for several moments.

“Why not do both?” Ike suggested, allowing the coin to fall to the table, watching it roll along its edge towards the center before falling flat. “We don’t know if a pouch of coins has anything to do with Micaiah’s kidnapping, and we don’t know for certain if this Marbo character ever read the letter for certain. I personally think that one choice will be as good as the other.” The room fell silent at the Commander’s astute observation, the gathered men quietly pondering their leader’s words.

“That settles that then,” Sothe finally nodded. “Pelleas, can you deduce the house of this crest?”

Pelleas remained quiet for some time, carefully laying the pouch back on the table as he pondered. “There are many Crimean noble houses that have existed for generations, even when it was a state of the Begnion empire. After the Mad King’s war a number of them were ousted from their lands and titles. Since then very few have survived to reclaim their heritage, and most of the current elite members of the Crimean court are more bourgeois than noble blood,” he rambled. “I will have to look through our current archives to see if there are any crests that could match this one. But if this pouch truly came from a Crimean household, we may find the one buying branded.”

“Excellent, have the collections of houses ready for us by early morning. We will leave before dawn,” Sothe concluded, rising from his seat.

“A moment, your majesty,” Soren interjected. “Did you just say, ‘we’?”

“I did. I am coming with you.”

“You most certainly are not!” Pelleas exclaimed.

Sothe visibly bristled. “And what’s to keep me from coming?”

Pelleas gestured to the unknown distance where his people were slowly growing into a mob. “I believe the fact that we have a new countrywide crisis on our hands is a good start. The current ruling queen of Daein is missing, leaving you as the sole monarch to provide order amongst this new wave of madness. The commonwealth of Daein rely on these warehouses. Without them we will need to open new routes and pay exorbitant fees to recover from these losses. We need a leader more than ever, your majesty.”

Sothe’s hands clenched into tight fists in an effort to fight his invisible chains. “If there is a way to find Micaiah, I must be one to do so,” he insisted.

“Micaiah would want you to be here, Sothe, holding your kingdom and home together for when she returns,” Leonardo replied, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

The king shrugged his friend’s hand away. “You don’t understand! None of you realize what it’s like to have a lover taken away from you! My queen, my _wife_ , is gone, and I am to sit idly by as a king consort playing pretend until she returns?! Can you imagine your loved one gone and possibly injured or killed and you can’t help them?” He demanded, desperation and fear wavering his voice.

Ike sat in stunned silence as Sothe’s words struck him. A small glimpse at Soren was all it took for him to empathize with his old friend. Had things been different only hours ago, Ike would have been charging after Soren in a heartbeat, with no intention of stopping until he was safe at his side. If anyone tried to kidnap his lover, as one party already had, he would undoubtedly be of the same perspective as the king. 

The former rogue continued after a moment of composing himself. “No, Pelleas. I refuse to stand idle like this. I don’t give a damn what any of you think. You will make this work, counselor. Tell them I departed the moment I received word for Crimea to bargain a deal for a new purchase. Or to Begnion’s warmer shores to request a loan. Whatever you need to do to let me go with them. This is an order, not a request.” The king ended his command by throwing open the doors, startling Caf and Barif on the other side before leaving the room in awkward silence.

Pelleas finally let out a tired sigh. “I will see about preparations for the journey to Noctem in the morning. I presume you two will be joining this quest?” He asked of Leonardo and Edward.

“She isn’t just Sothe’s wife, she’s our friend as well. Count me in,” Edward nodded. “I’m also pretty sure Leo hasn’t used any of his vacation days since rejoining the military, so he’ll be coming along.” The wandering swordsman winked.

The counselor nodded before turning to Ike and his exhausted party. “Refreshments will be brought up in a short while. If you will excuse me, I must be off to the archives.”  The spirit charmer rose with a slightly crestfallen gaze and slipped away from the room.

* * *

 

Edward and Leonardo joined the mercenaries for dinner that night, providing good company to fill the silence of the room by engaging Rhys and Rolf with witty banter and boisterous jokes while Soren quietly picked away at his seared pheasant. His mind was silently roiling with the barrage of thoughts and speculations. The Greil Mercenaries had been contracted for various tasks, from retrieving lost pets for local lords to defending villagers against bandits. After the Mad King’s war their fame had spread across the lands and the tasks had taken on more flair. More risk. Sabotaging a coup, counseling lords on how best to upgrade their defenses. They had become a respectable business hired by many lords in Crimea, after the Goddess war it had only expanded to all of Tellius.

The branded mage couldn’t quite pin the source of his discomfort concerning this job. Perhaps it was the anarchical destruction that some ragamuffin band of bandits had been able to cast upon one of the most militant countries in Tellius, or the fact that some mage out there had composed a dangerous galdr that caused a reaction different from its lyrics. That thought alone was enough to send the mage into darker thoughts. If one could create a basic galdr scrawl that caused this kind of damage, could one sabotage a tome with a similar technique? Or holy scriptures? What magic was capable of causing such a perverse elemental reaction in flames? Was it limited only to flames? Or could one taint wind and thunder as well? The prospect sent a small shudder down the mage’s frame as he recalled the angry hiss of the flames. It was an illogical spirit that had consumed the bandit, an element that had screamed with a feral mindlessness beyond Soren’s comprehension.

Amidst all the new evidence and discoveries of that day, one piece continued to sit in the back of his mind, simmering away as he continued to stew over his internal discourse. He would be recognized as branded, and perhaps he wouldn’t have to fear being beaten, cast out, or killed as much. But now he was being hunted, by someone clever enough to snatch a queen from under the kingdom’s nose. Today simply proved that Soren was now prey for an unknown predator. As the mage compared his current situation to ten years ago he couldn’t quite decide which he would have preferred more.

His thoughts were drawn away as he felt a familiar hand brush the top of his thigh. Ike gazed at him knowingly, catching the subtle signs on Soren’s face—his half-lidded eyes, pursed pink lips, and the absent fiddling of his fork. His pensive companion had hardly eaten his food, connecting dots and forming new hypotheses about everything that had happened. When his mind went at this pace his physical body would always become still, expending all energy to his thoughts.

The leader of their band leaned over to whisper in the mage’s ear, “Do you want to head to the bath and I’ll come to your room with food? You have that look on your face that you need to be alone.”

Soren gave a small nod of his head and rose from his place at the table, requesting he be excused before slipping out into the hallway, heavily perturbed as he was at the beginning of the meal.  His original route towards the guest rooms was soon dismissed as he began wandering the hallways, allowing his feet to follow the musty scent of books along a subtle breeze to the grand library at the end of his path. As evening had descended and most of the castle residents had turned in for the night, the twenty-two-foot-tall room was now shadowed in darkness. Drapes had been pulled close and the sconces and fireplaces had been extinguished. A sweeping glance across the main floor showed a single candelabra casting a flickering glow along a long table, displaying scattered folios of paper surrounding Lord Pelleas as he hunched over a batch of papers.

The mage stalked to the counselor’s side, peeking over his shoulders to see him gazing though a reading glass at the corner of Crimean house seals. “That seal doesn’t have any animals on it,” he commented. Pelleas jumped several inches from his seat with a yelp, nearly knocking over his candelabra and dripping hot wax onto his sleeves.  

Soren darted his hand out to right the candlesticks, shifting several pages away to safety before they could be dripped on. Pelleas cleared his throat and stiffly glanced over to gaze at Soren with a forced smile. “Soren, what can I do for you?”

The mage dismissed Pelleas’ façade with a roll of his eyes. “No need to play host for my sake. I’m intruding on your work, not demanding accommodation.”

The spirit charmer’s shoulders eased a bit. He turned his attention back to the scattered pages with a tired sigh. It was a surprisingly difficult job. For some reason the librarian had never thought to organize any of their documents, simply throwing all Crimean houses into a large box for any future reference that they didn’t expect to happen. It wasn’t until Soren had startled him from his work that Pelleas had realized how much there was. “Then what brought you here?” He asked as he tried to rub energy back into his worn eyes. Pelleas suspected he was going to need spectacles before he hit fifty.

“As I said before: intruding.” Soren scooted a chair out and settle in beside him, diving right into the work by pulling a messy pile closer to sift through them. With his sharp eyes the branded mage swiftly set aside any letters that bore a slight resemblance to the purse by Pelleas’ elbow.

“You don’t need to do that,” the spirit charmer protested half-heartedly, watching in slight awe as the mage made quick work of organizing, then sub-organizing, his collected papers. A simple glance at the page was all it took for Soren to pass instant judgment on the collection of documents. Pelleas forgot that the tactician had ignored him, turning back to carefully gaze and compare another letter to the frayed purse that he practically had memorized. The both of them quietly worked in silence, with Soren swiftly filtering out the mass of documents while Pelleas steadily examined the closer resembling candidates.

They continued the companionable labor for several moments until Soren finally spoke. “So what are your plans for Daein now that you have no winter storage?”

Pelleas let out a tired sigh, “We can manage a recovery from this. It will be a very difficult winter, but Daein has been through much worse in the past. The real concern is the fact that people will be looking to their queen for guidance and find none. If his majesty intends to carry out his whims they will find no king either. People were willing to condone Micaiah’s origins based on her history as the silver maiden that liberated Daein, but his majesty is only recognized as a king consort. A peasant with no noble ties and a mere shadow that follows at her majesty’s heels. More than a few have subtly challenged his authority in one form or another.”

“Is that not what he is?” Soren asked offhandedly, setting a good portion of the papers back into the large folio, properly organized and cleanly set.

“Excuse me?”

“Sothe was a street rat until he found Micaiah. Everything that boy has is because he was favored by the Silver Maiden. He has no authority in this kingdom without Micaiah, and he will never have the same influence as Micaiah or even live past Micaiah. Is a mere boy really capable of keeping your kingdom together better than you? Or even general Tauroneo?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Pelleas scoffed. “Sothe has been a king for ten years. He has played a vital role in helping Daein become the kingdom it is today. Without him we wouldn’t--”

“I’m sure Sothe has played the role of the accommodating husband quite nicely,” Soren interjected sarcastically. “Let me guess, he acted as a fine ambassador for Laguz relations, considering he was one of the more open minded Daein court members, or maybe he acted as an excellent representative of the Daein populace at galas and simple affairs. In any of those situations, were they ever vital to the wellbeing of the commonwealth? Or was crown spending, foreign negotiations, and law enforcement something that Micaiah and you oversaw?”

“Sothe is still a monarch of this country who—”

“No one of any real importance actually listens to,” Soren finished coldly. “Let’s face it, the court and its advisors are more likely to turn to you for guidance on state affairs over Sothe. The king consort plans to do what he has always done best: run off to nearly get himself killed to save his damsel in distress,” he sniffed at the unfortunately thematic cliché.

Pelleas shook his head distastefully. “You are absolutely incorrigible.” _And all too sharp for your own good as well._ He silently added. The man had been here less than a day, and already Pelleas was exhausted. He was stubborn, rude, and unreasonable on a number of things. He refused to acknowledge other’s opinions or ideas simply out of his pride. Despite his less appealing personality traits, Pelleas could also see Almedha in him. His loving adoptive mother had also been unreasonable at times, seeing things as she wanted to see them and always being stubborn in her opinions. _Except she was much kinder,_ he reminisced.

“I am also right,” Soren replied coolly. “Regardless of whether Sothe is there or not, the people will panic, and general Tauroneo will have to dispatch his men to enforce peace in Nevassa. Regardless of whether Micaiah is here or not. The people will continue to struggle until they see her address them in person. Or until they’ve been assured of a solution.”  

“What do you suggest I do then?” The spirit charmer snapped.

“Let Sothe run off and get himself nearly killed saving his wife, and care for the people in their absence. I assume you remained close to Micaiah’s side for a reason. It’s definitely not because you’re the sharpest. It’s because you’re a diplomat. Something the people will obviously need tomorrow,” Soren replied.  “Politicians are meant to say what people want to hear. They are just as likely to listen to you as they are to listen to Micaiah’s trophy husband.”

Pelleas stared hard at Soren. “Why are you supporting this? What do you gain from this sort of thing?”

The mage shrugged and slid the remaining pile of papers to the side. “There is nothing worse than being kept from your purpose in life,” he admitted. “Sothe’s purpose is to always be at the side of the queen, and your purpose is the same as Micaiah’s—to preserve the wellbeing of Daein.”

The counselor quietly thought for several moment as he examined the last few letters on the table. The moment the last letter was settled he finally nodded his acceptance. “It is a fair argument you make, Soren. The best thing for Sothe, and most likely the kingdom, is for him to do what he’s meant to do.” He let out a defeated sigh and spread the few letters on the table. Each house had the same design as the frayed purse. This was as close as he was going to get.

“I should also thank you for your help,” he added grudgingly. “This would have taken much longer alone. Now if you’ll excuse me I believe we have a long day tomorrow.” The counselor began to rise from his seat when a pale hand landed on his arm.

“A moment, Pelleas. We have yet to discuss the details of our contract, I’m afraid. Seeing that we will be leaving in the morning, I think now would be the best time to discuss compensation,” the mage said with an uncomfortably polite tone that put Pelleas on edge.

“Details such as…?”

“Well, there was the warehouse fire that nearly killed us, the fact that I will now be risking my well-being as a branded bounty, and now we will be guarding his majesty during his journey. We’ll need to make some adjustments to our contract and have it signed before tomorrow,” Soren said with the barest hint of a smirk on his lips. 

Pelleas narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth. _You sly little dastard…._ It was then that the counselor decided the mage was a terrible combination of his parents. An absolute horror. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... so while writing this chapter I thought to myself that this plotline might be a bit too complicated for my readers, cause just trying to figure out how to write this interaction has been a monster. It's been a fun challenge, but I am also a little worried that I might have lost some of you while writing this, and although I tried to think of all the plotholes I wanted to avoid pretty sure I still missed some... haha. 
> 
> Anyways, please let me know if this chapter was really complicated and I will go back and simplify the plot line. I have different plot line possibilities, this one was just the best in my opinion , so I decided to go with it (well... 2nd best. The first best actually goes on for another book or two, but that really depends on if this ever gets popular enough to call for me to write it. It's a lot more angst, and a very sloooooow burn). If I take this plot line we're looking at around 28+ chapters more, if not then there are some routes that are just like... 10 chapters more. haha. But seriously, please please please let me know whether if this story is ever getting so complicated that it doesn't make sense. Cause I want you all to enjoy my writing! 
> 
> Also, no guarantee on next week's chapter being up by Sunday. I'll give it my best, but it might be in two weeks... We'll see how ambitious I feel. haha. Thanks for reading guys!


	9. Organize every needful thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ike has a small discussion with Rhys about religion. The Greil Mercenaries convene at Noctem and make some plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we’re back! I apologize if this took a long time to post, I’ve been doing more research and I realized that… I’m a bit off on some of my… geography… locations of places, and intended plans. UGH! I’m a slight perfectionist and like keeping things as close to canon as possible (even though this is literally a continuation of the story and doesn’t entire matter… haha). So it turns out that the small community of branded was technically located in Hatari, which is East of Daein in the Death Desert (But come on! Who willingly decides to settle their country in a place that is a desert… of death?!) 
> 
> So that was unfortunate… In my defense though, I barely found out about this after digging through the wiki and coming across a really random page about the different Laguz Factions. There is nothing about the Hatari (which is apparently where the branded country originated) until Radiant Dawn, and there’s also less detail about their people, the history, etc. So if the info I need is hidden it obviously isn't my fault. Right? Right. 
> 
> However, the leader of the Hatari wolf Laguz, Nailah, has an epilogue stating that she hoped to migrate her people across the desert. Which is great! Cause that means Laguz, Beorc, and Branded Hatari-ans (?) “possibly” could have migrated from the death desert to settle between the Laguz and Beorc Nations as a new middle ground. Daein is too far from any Laguz nations and Crimea is a dinky farming country. But hey! Begnion just rooted out their entire government system, probably went into a state of religious reformation and possible civil war, and there’s plenty of land to go around! It was also an interesting little note that Hatari is a translation from Swahili meaning “peril”, so I decided to stick to the Hatari’s Swahili etymology and changed the name from Markiert (which was a german name for “marked”) to Nyumbani, which is Swahili for “Home” (Sentimental nonsense I know). 
> 
> So as an update. All readers who are reading this past the date Feb 5 2018, ignore this rant. For those before then, just know Markiert is now Nyumbani. 
> 
> On another completely random note, I play Fire Emblem Heroes. They came out with Vanguard Ike. I had 50 orbs to get him. Did I get him? No... no I did not. I do not play FEH much anymore... :I 8% chance my eye. UGH! I'm still angsting and sad about it. So I threw my phone across the room and wrote out the rest of this chapter instead. At least my fictional Ike is with Soren like he's supposed to be! *insert other dramatic actions here* 
> 
> I will be avoiding that game for a bit... until the day they finally give Soren his updated character, and then I'll despair again. *sigh* 
> 
> Side note: This chapter has not been beta read. My goal for this week will be to beta read my unbeta'd chapters. I also might be open to anybody offering to be a beta reader... >> Comment below if you might be willing to beta for me along with a link to some other works you might have beta'd before. I need someone to keep me organized! Besides that we are on to chapter 10!

Everyone arose before the sun that morning, huddling together in the central courtyard against the cold. Sturdy mountain horses were escorted from the stables along with a pack mule for their supplies. Ike stared suspiciously at the lightness in his lover’s step, making sure to pull up close to him after he mounted his horse.

“What did you do, Soren?” Ike asked with a note of concern.

The mage looked at him with feigned innocence. “Hm?”

The sound of slamming doors drew their attention to a worn Pelleas, emerging from the castle with dark circles under his eyes and a stream of curses under his breath. The barest glance at Soren had the counselor muttering and fuming as he stomped towards Edward and Leonardo, who both kept themselves busy securing their horses packs.

Ike quickly surmised the situation and turned back to his lover with a look. A look that he often gave Soren back during their mercenary days when the mage had been their manager and liaison between their contractors. Mild disapproval mixed with no small amount of suspicion. Soren allowed himself the smallest smile and stretched his arms above his head. “Don’t worry, Ike. I made sure to give him a discount since they’ll be in some tight straights after yesterday’s fiasco. I’m not a _complete_ monster, you know.”  

“I should hope so, Soren. Ashunera forbid you ever become a loan shark, or end up on the opposing side of a war. You know we don’t really need the money, right?” Ike added.

“Well, Mist’s flowerbeds aren’t going to pay for themselves you know,” the tactician said with a mocking smirk. Ike let out a small sigh before lifting the edge of his cloak, allowing his companion to huddle close to his side to escape the frigid morning air. He wrapped his cloak around Soren’s small frame, allowing the thick material to envelope them both in a small pocket of warmth.

“It will be cold up in those mountains,” Ike commented, taking stock of the supplies and his company’s gear. Everyone had been provided winter clothing for their journey. Rhys had been bequeathed a mending staff to serve doubly as his tool and his walking stick, along with a supply of medicine to treat any vertigo their company would suffer on their climb to Noctem. Rolf and Leonardo were tying the last knots upon their bundles, each wrapped in thick heavy coats while Edward gave Pelleas a reassuring farewell pat on his shoulder.

Safely tucked beneath Ike’s fur-lined grey cloak, Soren gazed carefully at the skies, feeling the cool autumn breeze send whispers of the wilderness to his senses. The morning birdsongs had faded in the distance, leaving only the whispers of the road to beckon them on. Despite all the trials they had already faced, the mage was itching to depart.

Finally, the doors opened again to announce the arrival of their final member. Unlike his usual garish regalia, Sothe had donned the light leather armor and furs befitting his previous career, much to everyone’s surprise. The crown was absent from his brow, and the king was only escorted by a frowning General Tauroneo. Instead of his usual forest green colors, the whisper had adopted a mixture of dark and light greys, a fitting set for blending into the shadows and the mountainous regions that would undoubtedly be covered in snow.  The group quickly gathered around the king, with Pelleas scowling but silent at his side. The monarch of Daein greeted them all with a nod before turning to his aides.

“Pelleas. Tauroneo,” he began fondly. “I… I know that my actions seem reckless and inconsiderate. But I promise you that I will return with Micaiah alive and well by my side, for the sake of the kingdom. Until then, I am leaving the safety of Daein’s commonwealth in your capable hands,” Sothe said with more confidence and authority than he actually felt. He had felt guilt-ridden all night after yelling at Pelleas. His anger and his temper had gotten the best of him, but the green-haired monarch was resolute in his decision. Regardless of the situation of his kingdom and subjects, Sothe was determined to be the first one to find his wife. With Ike and the Greil Mercenaries at his side, the whisper knew that it was his best chance of succeeding.

With his usual stern face, General Tauroneo approached the king, slightly tilting his head down to gaze into Sothe’s fierce honey colored eyes. A single clap on the shoulder broke his silent treatment, his grey eyes sending look of understanding to his liege. “Return before Spring, my king,” he requested softly. Their promise was sealed with a returning clasp on the shoulder.

Pelleas followed shortly with a small huff.  “I’ve given all of my research about Crimea’s nobility to Soren. From there you should be able to find them, your majesty.” The spirit charmer shot the mage another withering look. “They have also agreed to place your safety as a priority, sire. Just remember that you are not protected by your title or name while you are Sothe. Your skills and companions are the only things that will protect you and her majesty until you return,” he warned.

The whisper nodded his understanding and pulled the counselor in for a tight hug. “You’ve been a brother and a teacher to me, Pelleas. I know you’ll take care of everything until we return. Just be safe, okay?” he murmured into his shoulder. The counselor waited for only a second before returning the embrace.

“Both of you come home safely,” he whispered before they pulled apart. Leonardo gave a similar farewell to the general before the king turned on his heel and mounted his horse with a swing of his leg. The others soon followed suit, forming up with Ike and Sothe at the lead, with Soren and Rhys behind them and the others at the rear. With only an old general and spirit charmer to bid them farewell, the party departed for the west.

* * *

 

The fortress at the border of Daein and Crimea could be reached with a week of steady riding. With an additional day spent in Nevassa, Soren expected the rest of their band to be there three days ahead, awaiting their arrival. The tactician already decided to spend the time thinking up a plan for how they would search two locations from each end of the continent. A quick glance at the noon high sun only served as a heated reminder of his limited time. After their group had galloped out of sight of the city, they had slowed their pace to a comfortable trot, allowing everyone a bit of time to finally enter a more relaxed setup to pass the time.

Without regard for any of his traveling companions, the mage pulled out a thick roll of vellum, carefully unrolling it to reveal an old asset that had helped him since the Mad King’s war and beyond. The meticulously graphed maps of Tellius was Soren’s  most prized material possessions.  The collection of parchment maps charted each country throughout Tellius. Daein had several maps that had been marked, torn, scorched, and re-marked for the dozens of battles and wars waged on its soil. Begnion, Gallia, Phoenicis, and even the Serenes Forest were tucked away for safe keeping. Each holding the historic remainders of the archsage’s tactical genius. The only map that remained absent from his collection was the mysterious country of Goldoa. A small part of the mage was still mildly bitter that he had every map of the continent except for a single strip of land. His collection acted as a token of his legacy to Tellius. All his tactics and strategies had been marked through the parchments, making them priceless treasures in their own right.

He carefully thumbed through the assortment until he found his latest copy of Crimea. While most of Soren’s maps displayed detailed terrain for his battle planning, this map had been specifically purchased with the additional borders of each Crimean region. Melior was located along the northern edge of the continent beside the open Oribes sea. From there it was surrounded by provinces that their band had visited numerous times, along with what the mage noted to be several new holdings that hadn’t existed ten years ago. Felirae and Delbray remained in the northeast, with Pinell and Nados just east of Melior. But Arbor had been replaced by several new provinces scattered across the open plains of the country.

While Soren continued to pore over his maps, the rest of their band settled into a more relaxed arrangement, with Sothe maintaining his position at the front beside Rolfe, keeping their eyes on the road and scouring their surroundings for anything suspicous. Ike had fallen back to ride in between his companion and Rhys, listening to a discussion between the remainder of their companions a few feet at the rear.  His chestnut stallion flicked his ears in annoyance and tugged at his reigns, trying to pull Ike back to the front where he wanted to be. The dominant horse was a bit too aggressive for the hero’s liking, especially since his experience with mounts were far from good.

“So Rhys,” Ike said as he reigned in the stubborn horse, “How has the church changed over the past decade since we left? You have a larger chapel now, so I assume your congregation has grown a bit since then.”

The priest smiled but didn’t meet Ike’s eyes, focusing on running his fingers through his horse’s mane. “Yes, it’s a little bigger now. But I haven’t actually had much growth in my congregation. The real upgrade was due to the growing number of students I’ve acquired over the years. It’s been a very different experience.”

“Too many people for comfort?” Ike guessed. 

Rhys cleared his throat with a flush to his cheeks. “That’s part of it, yes. I never really thought I would end up becoming a teacher after all that’s happened. I became a priest and joined because it was the best way to help people, even if it ended up taking me to the frontline of wars. Now I teach nearly fifty students from the holy books.”

Ike nodded knowingly, thinking back on the past he had shared with his first teacher. Rhys had been only a little over seventeen when Titania had picked him up from a small hamlet along the outskirts of Crimea. The young priest had brought only his meager sack of books and reliquaries when Commander Greil and his young children welcomed him into their home. A few days later the commander allowed the priest to setup a small chapel beside the main hall, with the condition that he take command of Mist and Ike’s education. From then on, the Church and its scriptures had become the foundation of their education, as it had for most children. It had given them skills that proved pivotal later, even though Ike failed to remember hardly any of the material, whereas Mist had eaten up the church doctrine and later continued as Rhys’ acolyte and protégé. Regardless of his poor performance, Ike was grateful for the skills to read and write, especially when he met his bibliophile lover a few years later. 

“Did your church ever change their scripture? Or are they still sticking to goddesses of chaos and other falsehoods?” Soren asked with his usual scathing distaste. While the church had been a boon to many, it had also been an oppressor to others. No powerful sermon or holy scripture could strengthen the faith of one condemned by their edicts. Especially when they condemned interbreeding between beorc and laguz.   

Rhys overlooked his usual scornful remark with a solemn nod. “That has been one of the larger concerns for the Church, especially back in Begnion. Words written by their saints and apostles have been called into question, such as whether there ever _was_ a goddess of chaos, and how much was changed by the Senate if their corruption went unnoticed for so long. More than one priest has been declared an apostate of the church for spouting new and unfounded doctrine.”

Ike let out a breathy disbelieving laugh. “Wait, there’s a bigger problem?”

The Bishop let out a tired sigh. “Well, shortly after the war, Empress Sanaki took rather drastic measures upon her return to the empire. The original senate was overthrown during the war with Begnion, but they _were_ still dukes of the most powerful empire in Tellius. When Sanaki announced that they would no longer follow the laws of a theocratic government it was met with some… opposition from other members. There have been rumors every few years that the country is on the verge of civil war,” Rhys explained. “The Empress and her allies have been doing their best to control the senate and current elite, but changing people who have lived with a certain mindset for centuries is… difficult.”

“Heh,” Soren grunted. “No one likes to be told that they’re wrong for their thoughts or deeds.” He pulled out a small piece of charcoal wrapped in cloth, marking off small areas of the map before continuing. “The longtime tradition of slave-trading, more gold and soldiers than Crimea and Daein combined, even after the costs of war, more land and resources within their borders than any laguz country could dream of, and each duchy holding more power, influence, and experience than a mere child “apostle” could ever hope to achieve alone. I cannot fathom why she would be struggling,” Soren continued with wet sarcasm. Ike glanced over Rhys’ head to give Soren his usual look. The look that always said _lighten the scathing remarks a bit._

“I’m sure Sanaki and Sephiran will be fine,” Ike assured them. “Change can be a good thing, especially when recovering from a war that nearly destroyed the world. It was the best time to do it.”

Soren gave a noncommittal grunt before returning half his attention to Rhys. “So what do you preach to your congregation now that you don’t have any reliable doctrine to teach them? Isn’t a holy man supposed to bring his followers light and truth?”

The saint cleared his throat to help gather his thoughts. “Well… I continue to stick to teachings we know to be true and have also referred to the experiences I’ve had during our time with the goddess. It has helped many on their path to strengthening their faith, at least.”

“And you simply assume that is what they need? Faith in an imperfect goddess who no longer watches over her people?” Soren asked dubiously.

Rhys shrugged his shoulders. “I do not. But my purpose is to act as a voice of the heavens, to bring hope to people in circumstances where there is none. Otherwise I would not be able to heal others, or summon light to aid me,” he replied humbly. “All that I have is because of the goddess. She continues to bless us with miracles even now.”

That was one argument that Soren couldn’t quite contend. Blessings and curses of the spirit were powerful skills that were second nature to men of faith like Rhys. Although Soren and other mages could tap into the energies of a healing staff, the power within Rhys’ scriptures were something beyond Galdr. There were few in this world that could call upon the power of Light, and all of them were women and men of seemingly blind faith. It both fascinated and frustrated the branded mage.

“You said you keep to what is still true, but what’s left when so much of what the church claimed was wrong?” Ike asked curiously.

Rhys gave his first student a disappointing look. “Well, Ike. If you had been a better student back then, you might have remembered that there is more to our religion than the main legend. There are accounts of past apostles, teachings of holy saints, and parables that guide us to morality.”

Ike avoided Rhys’ withering look and tugged his horse back under control. “I wasn’t’ that bad of a student! I remember some things…” he defended lamely.

“Wonderful! Then you can share what you remember with me. It will be very nice to have someone to talk to about the saints and their dogma,” The bishop replied with an all-too-friendly smile.

Ike maintained the majority of his stoicism, his regret at saying anything slipping through with only the smallest furrow of his brow. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Soren failing to hide a small smirk  “Right…”

* * *

 

Noctem was a small fortress tucked into the Merhaut mountain range above the Delbray river. Fresh blankets of snow layered across the stronghold, covering treetops and roofs in white while dismissing the presence of any autumn weather from the valleys below. As Ike stared at the worn wooden walls in front of him he decided that Noctem was closer to a large outpost than an actual fortress. At first glance it appeared the place was abandoned. A part of the wooden wall had rotted away, leaving a gaping opening in their defenses, while the small watchtower near the front of the fort had lost its roof and showed signs of further decay, making the twenty-foot-tall perch a precarious one.

No guards awaited them at the gates, and no Daein banner danced in the frigid mountain winds. If Ike didn’t know otherwise, he would have deduced Noctem was nothing more than a gathering of ruins. His suspicions were confirmed when they rode into the courtyard to find it also empty of any soldiers, with frosted moss covering the surface of the walls and dormant ivy vines scaling up the face of the main hall. Instead of posted soldiers their arrival was greeted by Haar’s Wyvern letting out a low rumbling. The door to the largest building swung open to admit Titania and Boyd. Shinon also arrived behind Leonardo and Edward’s rear, emerging from his hiding place unannounced to push the gates closed as everyone dismounted.

The moment the commander of the Greil Mercenaries laid eyes on Sothe’s clean-cut form he went to one knee, followed by Titania and Rolf right behind him. “Your majesty. We didn’t expect you to be meet us in Noctem,” Boyd greeted the monarch bemusedly.

“Thanks for the welcome, Boyd. But you can all stand. I will be foregoing any titles or royal treatment until we find my wife,” Sothe gestured for them to relax.

“We?” Boyd asked in a daze while Titania sent a silent query towards Ike and Soren. The taller of the two merely shook his head and gestured towards the building, signifying they would tell them all about it in when they were in the building.

She nodded in understanding and called for the others to come out and help with the horses. Rhys had barely set one of his feet on the ground when an excited shriek erupted from the building. A flash of purple hair was all the warning anyone received as the priest was barreled down by the final part-time member of the Greil Mercenaries.

Despite being of small frame, Mia was what Boyd often called ‘a teeming ball of piss and vinegar’. Her boundless energy was portrayed in her swordplay, her laughter, and her never diminishing forte of a voice. Unfortunately, there wasn’t quite enough snow to lighten the pair’s tumble to the ground. Rhys landed with a dazed and heavy _thud_ beneath Mia’s small body.   “My favorite all-time rival! Rhys I was so sad not to see you when I ran into the others! So I’ve been waiting for _ages_ for you to get here, and they also told me that—oh! Ike!!” She squealed with newfound excitement, leaping away from Rhys to run barreling towards Ike. The warrior raised his hands in self-defense to prepare for the sudden tackle when a new figure stepped in front of them. Mia pulled back on herself and skid to a halt only a few inches from the former tactician, who steadily stared her down with a disapproving smile.

“That is quite close enough Mia. We don’t need you barreling into everyone you wish like a bumbling buffoon,” Soren chastised coldly. Mia let out a fake disappointed huff before dancing around the mage with her usual speed. With practiced familiarity he quickly slid to the side to wall her off from Ike, leaving her once again blocked from her goal. She let out an annoyed noise before Ike calmly placed a hand on Soren.

“It’s good to see you again Mia,” Ike greeted fondly, making absolutely no move to remove the barrier between them. Mia’s energy was always a bit overwhelming, even for Ike. “When did you get here exactly?”

The swordmaster’s attention was pulled to her former leader, who she gave a cheery smile. “It’s good to see you again, boss! I ran into them right as they were leaving actually. Which is pretty lucky, ‘cause it looks to me like you’ll need all the help you can get!” She smiled. “But I also get to spar with you again, don’t I? It’s been a long time since we’ve crossed blades, and I have some new tricks that will help me beat you!”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else, Mia,” Ike agreed with a nod. Across the way Rhys was helped to his feet by Rolf, once again catching Mia’s attention. She gave the former hero a final smile before bouncing over to Rhys, brushing off the snow from his small shoulders and back. Soren finally relaxed underneath Ike’s hand as Titania came over to welcome them with her usual calm smile.

Leonardo and Edward were assisted by Oscar and Gatrie in unsaddling and stabling the horses while the rest of their party returned to the main hall. Leonardo and Rolf agreed to stand watch outside since they already knew their plans while Soren debriefed the remaining members on the events of their journey.

A heavy silence descended upon the room after the mage finished his report. Boyd sat back with arms folded across his chest, brow furrowed and more serious than usual. Titania sat to his right, with her elbows on the table and face masked by steepled fingers. It was a lot of information to take in. Their expectations of the job had altered considerably, which meant more dangers and risk, more expense for the journey, and more time away from loved ones and family. Even with Soren’s assurances of excellent payment there was an enormous task ahead of them.

“So we have two leads,” Boyd started as a way to open the discussion. “Where do we head first?”

Soren pulled out several of his newer maps, the marked regions of an updated Crimea and the latest cartography of Tellius and its major provinces. The maps were rolled out on the long table and weighted down by books on each end. “The first order of business is to split into teams. With every passing hour the trail continues to thin as our enemies gain more time and ground. Since Ike charitably agreed that it would be worth investigating both locations we will separate as needed. The only question is who goes where.” A small pouch was emptied onto the table, spreading out small chits of various colors. Red chits for enemies, white chits for allies. Other colors and designs were swiftly removed into the bag. A marker was placed upon Melior to the west of their location and another moved several hundred leagues south to Nyumbani along the opposite coast.

“Well, considering this is his majesty’s affair I suppose it depends on where you wish to go. Whatever course you decide we’ll follow,” Boyd said, turning to the head of the table where Sothe sat. “Do you have any suspicions of which area she is more likely to be?”

The Daein monarch shook his head. “I don’t have a personal preference for either area. Both regions may lead to Micaiah, but I must also consider distance for my case. If anything serious happens in Nevassa, I agreed with Pelleas that it would be better to be in Crimea with a three week journey to Daein versus a two month journey from Begnion.”

Boyd nodded. “That settles that then. So Sothe will head to Crimea, that means the rest of us can separate accordingly. Any ideas?” Ike silently watched Soren pull out another slip of scratch paper, using his charcoal pencil to scratch out names into a list. In every battle and circumstance during the wars, Soren would be the main strategist of their forces, with final clearance from Ike. From cavalry to footmen, each member was weighed, measured, and carefully considered for their battles. The harmony produced by these selections made it possible to win battles with minimal to no losses. Regardless of the scenarios, Soren’s planning always assured them victory.

He passed the list to Ike, who made a point to pass it to Boyd while the tactician began speaking. “Leonardo and Edward have close experience working with Sothe, so they will be accompanying him. Oscar, you are a high ranking member of the Crimean knights, which means that you will be a source of connections for finding out the buyer. Other members of the group heading to Crimea will include Rolf, Boyd, and Rhys. The rest of us will be heading to Nyumbani.”

Boyd scanned the two separate lists quickly to see Soren, Ike, Titania, Haar, Mia, Shinon, and Gatrie upon the remaining list. “Lord Haar is coming with us?”

Sothe nodded. “Lord Haar will in your service until the case is solved. So long as his wife doesn’t come for my skin I think we’ll be alright.” Haar snorted at the king’s confidence but made no further comment.

Boyd did his best to carefully consider the list, thinking of any setbacks or downsides to the teams. It was always risky separating their group. Every mercenary had a purpose and skill that made them a cohesive unit, with roles and functions that gave them the strategies necessary to win. To separate was uncommon and created gaps in their formations.

Titania held her hand out for the list to scan Soren’s plan. “You’re certain you won’t be slowed by Gatrie? He’s the heaviest unit of our group, and Nyumbani is at least a month’s journey from here. It may be best if he took the closer location.”

Soren replied with a knowing nod. “Haar’s wyvern will mostly be riding double with Gatrie on the heavier parts of the journey. We will sell our mounts in Telgam and take the rivers down to Miscale, from there we will only be a day from Nyumbani. I’m not too concerned about our journey. With the river our month journey will take a matter of a week.”

Titania nodded in acquiescence. “We’re misbalanced on ranged and close combat. Sothe’s team has a bit more to offer in terms of brutal force, but that may also place them at a disadvantage against mages.”

“Crimea isn’t a country known for it’s mages, I assure you,” Soren replied with a cocked brow.

“Don’t let Lord Bastian find out about that remark,” Leo whispered to Sothe.

Titania silently contemplated their units for a moment longer before finally setting the slip on the table. “It seems sound to me. Is there anything else?”

Soren reached into his bag again and pulled out the folio of seals. “The bandit’s purse had a golden emblem sewn upon the surface. After a night researching with Pelleas we narrowed it down to four Houses. You will need to work with Oscar’s contacts to figure out who might be the buyer, and what they’re doing to their purchases. I will leave the remainder of the investigation to your group.”

Titania slid the seals over to Oscar, who stared at them with his narrow eyes. “I don’t recognize two of these,” he commented before setting the parchments aside. “But I think we’re in luck for this. Queen Elincia just had her second daughter only a few weeks ago, and the court is gathering for a celebration. If we leave tomorrow I believe we’ll arrive towards the end of the festivities. If we’re lucky we might run into our houses there,” he smiled.

“Great! That makes our job a bit easier then,” Boyd said optimistically. “If we’re lucky we’ll find Micaiah within a week and make it home before we all know it.”

“If she’s there,” Shinon grumbled.

“That begs another question. If one of the party finds Micaiah before the other does, how will we let the other group know?” Rhys perked up from his end of the table.

“We will need to maintain a correspondence between two set locations,” Soren responded. “Oscar, you know where most of the bird posts are in Melior. We will send a bird from Nyumbani once we arrive.”

“Why not just use a postman?” Sothe asked curiously.

“Excuse me?” Soren replied.

“A hawker. It’s a new business that’s boomed for Kilvas and Phoenicis. People who need to send letters and small packages usually pay a postman a small fee to deliver their message directly into the hands of their recipient,” Sothe explained. “ It’s actually been one of the major competitor’s that Haar’s business has had to deal with.”

“I’m not too concerned,” Haar piped in, “Hawks and Crows can’t carry heavy packages like a wyvern can.”

The mage blinked in surprise at the new information. “Oh. I see… very well.” He turned back to his map to silently digest the new information. It seemed he had more to learn about Tellius than he realized.

“Then we will maintain correspondence that way. Both parties will send a post out every five days to update the situation. By then both groups should be in their designated locations,” Boyd finished. “Now unless there is anything else, this place is absolutely freezing, and we need to get a fire going.”

As everyone rose from the table to break apart Sothe’s gaze wandered outside to the swiftly darkening forests. _I’m coming for you Micaiah… wait for me…_

* * *

 

Soren buried his face into Ike’s chiseled chest, wriggling his body as close as possible to escape the merciless cold air. His lover shifted his body so he laid on his side with his arms wrapped protectively across the small mage. He gently ran his long fingers through Soren’s dark green hair, enjoying the silky feeling beneath his hands.

“Are you nervous about going to Nyumbani?” Ike asked after a moment of silence.

“What makes you ask that question?” came his lover’s muffled reply.

“Tellius has changed a lot. There’s a lot here that’s different and… strange. I think it might be a lot for you to take in when we get there,” he answered honestly.

Soren smiled against his lover’s chest. “I think I’ll be fine, Ike. As long as I’m with you I have nothing to fear. It will be strange, but we’ve seen stranger things before.”

“You mean like that nudist colony in Pesian Bay?” Ike smirked.

Soren replied with a small chuckle. “I was thinking more of the time when we ran into the tree huggers in that swamp. But the nudist colony was an odd one as well.”

Ike let out a breathy laugh on top of him and buried his face into Soren’s hair. “I still couldn’t quite decide if they were a cult or not.”

“We’re just lucky to get away before they married you off to their leader,” the mage replied.

Ike allowed himself to smile at the memory. “You did well in the meetings today. You still have that sharp mind of yours too. I thought you’d be a bit rusty after being away from the war tables for so long, but you still continue to amaze me.”

Soren felt the heat rise to his face at the praise. “Of course I still know my tactics. Don’t you know the famous saying about us? If you want to win you battle hire Ike,”

“But if you want to win the war, hire his tactician,” the swordsman finished. “An interesting saying, I always felt like it seemed to devalue my character.”

“I’m certain it was quite the blow to the hero of Tellius,” Soren agreed. “To be reduced to nothing more than a skilled blade, capable of turning the tides of an entire battle with his sword alone.”

Ike gave a small tug on Soren’s hair in reply to his mockery. “It always worried me, you know.”

“What?”

“That someone would take you from me. You remember how many offers we received for your services?”

“You turned down anything that requested my services alone,” Soren replied, remembering the different letters and callings from across Tellius. After the mad king’s war their contracts had remained mostly within Crimea’s borders, but shortly after the Goddess war the letters had come pouring in. It was enough to drive Ike up the wall at their bold offers. Later on he admitted to his lover that the idea of Soren being gone from his side wasn’t something Ike would ever consider. But that revelation came later, much later.   

“I can understand why they would try, though,” Ike admitted. “As much as I hated it, seeing you in your element, both on and off the field, it’s always made me proud of you.” The memories were still fresh in the hero’s mind. Short of height, but confident in his element, Soren was a master of his trade in every sense of the word. Scrutinous, calculating, and ruthless in his work.  

Said mage tilted his head up to gaze deeply into his love’s ocean blue eyes. “Are you going to continue to shower me with praise, or will I be able to enjoy more than words tonight?”

Ike smiled lovingly at the mage and slid his tongue through Soren’s open mouth, giving the mage a satisfying reply.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm keeping it Teen people! For all you smut goers out there I'll write a sidestory or something for you someday, but I'm doing what I can to keep the main story SFW. :P Sorry about that. 
> 
> I always wondered how the Goddess war affected the church of Begnion. Obviously the central theocracy of Begnion fell apart, but all the Beorc countries were still rooted in this same religion, raised upon these false precepts of a good goddess and an evil goddess (all originated by a really angry and depressed Lehran). So did that mean that all the local churches just collapsed and nobody had a church to go to anymore, or was there ever a recovery/reformation of Tellius’ religion with the new precepts and truths? If it’s the former that would be immensely destructive for medieval societies where education wasn’t exactly based upon government regulation, most of the arts were supported by the theocratic nobility (or Duke Oliver… he was probably the only benefactor of the arts really), and rural communities and villages were reliant on a unifying factor, which was usually their local church and their ruling monarchs. (Daein has been a bit leery since they literally had a war named after their Mad King) 
> 
> I like to think that it was a bit more of the secondary approach. After the Senate was removed from their office, Sanaki declared that there would be no more apostles, due to the goddess’ decree that man live a life in pursuit of peace and love, that she left the fate of humanity to mankind to decide, etc. Instead of a reformation it was more of a… restoration. A restoration of what the Goddess originally wanted for the people she loved. No more wars, and no more using her name as a way to fight amongst each other. Micaiah, Elincia, and Sanaki are all more peaceful rulers (go girl power) and possibly may have worked together to introduce this new doctrine to the church. I’m also sure that nearly all of Crimea and Daein adopted these new principles, but Begnion… that’s another story. 
> 
> So knowing that Rhys still built a chapel and continued to teach and preach the gospel, and that it was still a “thing” I assume that there must be some lingering presence of religion amongst the people. It’s definitely a good thing they aren’t reliant on a theocracy anymore though. Too much sociopolitical power in the hands of a bundh of religious old guys just makes things a bit… cultish… haha. And now I'm rambling. 
> 
> But let me know what you think happened to religion in Tellius! Did it just go away for good? Or was there still good that could come from priests and bishops and such? Other comments and kudos are awesome too! I loooooveee comments, kudos, anonymous promotion on your social media feeds that I also don't follow because I don't interact with social media much, etc.


	10. Planning the Unplanned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mercenaries prepare for the next leg of their journey. Soren and Ike have an argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Thanks so much for being patient with me readers. I appreciate the loyal followers and will now be able to give you a bit more consistent updates for the next few months. Yay! :D Who doesn't love consistent updates? For now we will be going back to weekly updates every Sunday. Unfortunately I wasn't able to write two chapters for y'all like I promised. (OTL) But I did beta read all the chapters, edit and update certain things, etc. So if you're feeling bored you can go back and catch the bits and pieces I might have altered. Sometimes I just wanted to fill in a bit more pieces, other times I decided to change the scene just a bit which may have large consequences on the story. 
> 
> ... If anyone gets confused I apologize. I'll do my best to just keep things consistent. Haha. 
> 
> What else? Oh yes, I do have chapter 12 planned out fairly well, I just need to sit down and write it. Usually these "writing zones" don't happen until like, 2 am in the morning. Which is awful and highly unappreciated. :I Seriously. Not cool. But alas, here I am... posting at 3 am. Because that's when I was inspired. 
> 
> I can't think of any major updates to the story that would be important for everyone to consider... so ya know... enjoy the latest chapter!

Ike’s team departed with Titania in the lead, pushing their party at a hard pace to make it to the highways of Begnion with what little supplies remained. It put their less able horse riders through the test as the paladin picked her way down the mountain face towards the valley below, with Ike quietly cursing every hour as his horse pulled at his bridle. Haar flew ahead with Gatrie saddled behind him, scouting ahead to secure their path while Mia covered their rear whilst chattering away with an irritated Shinon.

The destination was Telgam. A smaller city of the Begnion empire built shortly after the Serenes massacre many years ago. Once the Serenes forest had been burned to the ground by Begnion’s corrupt senate, the empire cleared hundreds of acres of trees in the north to allow the small township to grow and expand in order to ease the travel route from the southern coasts to the northern borders where Begnion met Crimea and Daein. Telgam now served as the northern trading hub between the three Beorc civilizations, a crossroads of travel that eased the burdens of Daein’s wyverns and Crimea’s horses with the boon of teeming rivers that flowed south to the sea.

Several days of hard travel brought the team to the gates of the city just as the first winter snowflakes began to fall. Thick and heavy batches of snow that soon covered the earth in a pure white blanket.  

“Right on time for the weather,” Mia grinned as they entered the main road onto the busy thoroughfare.

Titania nodded in agreement. “Let’s not relax just yet though. We’ll need to get a boat ride for tomorrow, and snow makes ferrymen sluggish.” The red-haired commander led the rest of the way to an inn close to the river docks, making sure to find a location that could accommodate Haar’s mount as well as their own. After some winding and weaving through the busy streets of Telgam, the group finally convened in the main room of the Briny Bird just down the street from the riverfront. Horses and wyvern were stabled, three semi-expensive rooms were purchased, and sodden cloaks were hung by the fire.

“Thank Ash we finally made it,” Shinon sighed, happily sipping at a warm ale while a barmaid set a large pot of soup in the center of their large table. Everyone could only mumble or mutter in agreement, too focused on eating the boonful fare of hot stew and warm bread, thawing their hands and bellies with the well-cooked meal of the inn for several quiet moments. Ike made sure to give Soren a satisfactory serving, knowing that the mage would do anything to avoid eating too much. The moment he slid the bowl front of him, Soren made sure to pick out the larger chunks of meat to slip them into the commander’s stew, an unconscious habit that Ike could never break, despite many years of effort. 

 After the dishes were cleared away, Soren began the discussion for their next objective: preparations.

“We have a lot to do this afternoon, and I prefer we get it done as soon as possible. Therefore, We will split up and meet back here in time for dinner.” Everyone nodded in agreement.

“Shinon and I will make our usual rounds in the city,” Gatrie piped up, earning a suspicious look from their superior.

“Only if you _both_ stay sober enough to make it back to the inn before sunrise,” Titania warned. “Remember our job protocols.” Although the pair were known amongst the mercenaries for their less healthy habits, they were also the most competent at fishing for rumors, gossip, and news in the area. Gatrie’s flattery was usually enough to loosen most women’s tongues, while Shinon was a proficient drinker who made it a hobby to get others drunk and flapping their lips.  They both raised their glasses in agreement.

“I’ll go with them!” Mia volunteered.

Titania shook her head. “You’ll be coming with me to the docks to find a boatman. We’ll need someone who will be willing to carry a warhorse and a wyvern along with our group. And I’m sure there will be plenty of proud sailors who may need humbling,” she added with a wink. Mia hummed for a moment before nodding her ascent.

“That leaves resupply to the rest of us,” Ike commented.

The mage gave a single nod. “We’ll also need to sell the rest of our horses, ” he added. Ike had no argument there. He was glad to soon be rid of his headstrong equine companion.  He felt a sudden eagerness to see the creature off sooner rather than later.

* * *

 

The flurry eased up by the time everyone departed the inn. Mia and Titania headed towards the riverfront while Shinon and Gatrie slipped away to the alleyways of the city. Bundled up in their dry cloaks and scarves, Ike led the way towards the market located several blocks inland of the river. Stalls of grocers and hawking junk stalls crowded the main road while tailors, smithies, and carpenters were tucked into the more established buildings behind them.

“I think I should buy a sword,” Ike said suddenly as they passed a weapons stand. Bundled under the fur hood of his cloak, Soren glanced up at Ike before shifting his eyes to Ragnell’s covered hilt at his waist, then the stand of displayed metal to their right.

“A reasonable thought,” he agreed. “Perhaps something a bit sturdier than these?”

Ike nodded and began to head towards the shops set away from the main thoroughfare. Soren moved to follow when he suddenly came to a stop. It was only a brief little pause, but it was enough time for Ike to catch a glimpse of Soren’s secret longing gaze at a small bookstore, filled with tomes, maps, and scrolls. He gently nudged the mage’s shoulder, catching his attention. “Why not check it out, Soren?” Ike offered. “You know how picky I am with my blades. I’ll have Haar come with me. We still have plenty of time to look around for a moment.”

The mage hesitated for a moment, always unwilling to leave Ike’s side, even for a moment. But another glance towards the window front was all it took for the mage to finally nod in accord. “I will come find you when I’m done. It will only be a moment,” he promised. Ike gave his lover a small smile and reached out to squeeze his hand before watching him slip away and into the dimly lit store.

“Have you ever thought of expanding your repertoire, Ike?” Haar asked at the former hero’s shoulder. “You’ve dedicated much of your life to mastering the blade, but have you never thought of expanding to another weapon style?”

Ike shrugged his shoulder as they continued their wandering. “I first chose the blade because swords were the most effective against axes, which is what my father used. My dream was to beat him combat someday. It never crossed my mind to ever fight with anything besides a sword, but when I finally considered taking on a different weapon I realized carrying so many different weapons would be a pain. Lugging around a lance like a pikeman or weighed down by a large axe would be burdensome on my ability as a swordsman,” he explained.

“Maybe you should have learned to ride a horse. Or a wyvern,” Haar suggested as they turned down a side alley towards an open shop.

Ike made a disgusted face at the suggestion. “No,” came the curt reply.

Haar laughed at the younger man’s obvious distaste. “What do you have against mounts? You rode a horse all the time during the wars.”

“Horses transported me to wars. I never rode them into battle,” The blue-haired swordsman clarified. “Trying to control a horse while swinging a sword is little better than fighting on one foot. You’re nothing but a target for arrows and lances, with little control over your own footwork. Riding a horse is asking to lose a leg.”

Again the wyvern lord shook his head with a laugh. “I think it comes from a lack of practice, young hero. Ah, what about this one?” He lifted an eye-catching steel sword. Elegant in design, with the pommel inlaid with brass filigree and oiled leather along the hilt. Ike accepted the offered blade and examined the weight and balance, giving the sword a few simple practice swings.

“Mmm, the leather is a bit too oiled,” Ike critiqued carefully, loosening and clenching his hand around the hilt from several angles. A little bit of rainfall or blood could potentially cause the blade to slip from his hands if it became to slick.

“A few bouts of practice would wear it right down,” Haar replied in the blade’s defense. Another four suitors were turned down when Ike felt a familiar presence at his side. Soren had returned, eyes downcast and face closed. It was an old expression, and an unfortunately familiar one that had Ike immediately tense.

“What happened?” Ike asked, hand hovering over the next blade offered by a shopkeeper.

“Nothing,” Soren replied quietly behind his cold façade. The swordsman gazed at him a moment longer before turning back to Haar and the store’s merchandise. , making sure he was subtly pressing against Soren’s side.

 “I think this one will work, Haar,” Ike said, turning his attention back to shopping.

Soren remained very quiet the rest of the day.

* * *

 

  
“We leave at sun high,” Titania announced to the team that night as they all sat around the same table that evening.  Ike had steadily grown anxious about Soren’s dour mood, absently eating his meal and sneaking glances at the mage’s barely touched plate. It had been a long time since Soren had fallen into one of these moods.  “Ike?”

The swordsman looked up at the red-haired paladin. “Hm?  Sorry, Titania. What was that?”

“What did you buy at the market?” She reiterated patiently.

“Oh. We were able to sell the horses for a decent price. It took some haggling but we should be able to make it to Nyumbani without any problem. But we’ll need to pick up a side job or two in order to get back I think,” Ike reported. The paladin nodded satisfactorily just as the doors opened to admit Shinon and Gatrie. Both looked a little disheveled, with Shinon wearing his common scowl and Gatrie looking mildly irritated.

The archer threw himself into a chair with a huff. “Not a good drink in this whole city. You could pay me to take this town and I wouldn’t want it,” he muttered. Gatrie could only sigh in agreement.

Mia tilted her head. “Didn’t go that well then?” She asked.

“Depends on what you mean by ‘well,’ unfortunately,” Gatrie mumbled, raising his hand to catch the attention of a barmaid for their food. “Not a friendly lass in the city. The girls here are pretty, but cold. And the barkeeps are stingy with their drink.”

“Anything important you two learned?” Titania asked, keeping them both distracted from their unsuccessful night of drinking and debauchery.

Shinon waited for their food to arrive before leaning and quietly speaking. “Apparently there’s been some big trouble happening along the rivers. Boats have been going missing when they arrive at the merge point to the Miscale river. Apparently, it’s been bad. Bad enough that trade doesn’t come up the river often anymore.”

“That explains the captain’s eagerness in taking us for so cheap!” Mia realized. “He barely charged us anything to ride downriver so long as we provided them with protection. What’s happening though? What do you mean by ‘missing?”

“I don’t know. All we know is that this past week there have been five boats and a large ferry that never reported to their ports. No survivors, no evidence of sinking or an attack on the barges. The rumors are saying they just disappear,” Gatrie said eerily.

His companion rolled his eyes. “Not likely. More like someone is ambushing the boat and stealing the cargo. I’m sure if you dived in those river beds you’d find the remains of several crews, killed off by a band of highwaymen.”

“Highwaymen we can deal with though,” Titania replied, despite her furrowed brow belying her concern. “What do you think, Ike? Would it be safer to take the roads instead?”

The former commander shook his head. “No. We already sold the horses and we’re on a tight schedule as it is. We’ll simply need to be prepared for the worst. How big is the boat, Tania? Will it be large enough or us to  fight comfortably?”

The paladin pondered for a moment before nodding her head. “I won’t be able to ride while we’re on the boat. But so long as everyone is on foot and Haar takes to the air it will be manageable. What else can we do to prepare?” She asked.

“Haar will fly ahead of the ferry each day. Stay high and use a spyglass to look out for any suspicious movements. I don’t doubt these bandits will attack from the land  under the cover of a more forested area. Soren and I will go over the terrain of the rivers to estimate their likely ambush points. Everyone just be prepared for trouble,” Ike cautioned. Mia grinned in excitement while Shinon dismissed the warning with a small scoff.

Seeing that the two veteran mercenaries had nothing to offer, The team withdrew from the tables to their rooms. Titania and Mia slipped into their room on the main floor while Shinon, Gatrie, and Haar split off from Ike and Soren for their shared room.

“So what happened, Soren?” Ike asked the moment the door closed, determined to unlock his lover’s tightly closed heart.  The mage made no reply, turning to his pack to dig for his maps in their leather wrappings. The swordsman reached out to grab a pale wrist. “Soren,” he murmured, pressing closely to the branded mage’s side.

The mage stilled, refusing to meet Ike’s gaze while he quietly searched for the right words. “It’s nothing, Ike. Nothing to concern yourself with,” he replied neutrally.

“Did something happen in the shop?” Ike guessed, a small wince affirmed the man’s suspicions. “Was the shopkeeper an ass?”

His lover scoffed. “Ass is one way to put it, I suppose.” He pulled away from Ike with his maps in hand, turning his back to Ike as he stiffly set the maps on a small table near the fire. Ike waited patiently for Soren to continue as he stared into the fire.

“Why did we have to come back to Tellius?” The mage suddenly asked.

 Ike blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Ten years you never made a peep about Crimea or the Mercenaries. You never looked back on the past and we were happy. We were happy away from this miserable god-forsaken land. Why did we have to come back, Ike?? What made you want to suddenly decide to come back to a land that you turned away from?!” He demanded, turning his blazing red eyes on the beorc.

“Wait a minute, Soren. I never turned my back on my family. I left the mercenaries—”

“And never made any contact with them. You never cared to visit or speak to them for the past decade. What was so important for us to return, Ike? Why did we need to come back to this hellhole of a country, get wrapped up in another ridiculous conspiracy with people who hate me for being what I am??” He snapped, angry tears brimming his shining red eyes.  

The puzzles slowly clicked together for the swordsman, a vague understanding dawning on him as he realized the source of Soren’s discomfort. Ike moved to his lovers side, pulling his arms towards him in a firm embrace while the mage held back his angry sobs. The smaller man struggled for several moments before finally allowing Ike to hold him close. “Blood and ash, I thought I was past this chapter in my life. I thought _we_ were past this chapter, Ike. Why did we have to come back to this damned place??” He snapped. Soren couldn’t decide who he was angry at, the situation they’d fallen into, Ike for being too gentle and caring despite being the target of his anger, or himself for his sudden weakness. Ten years ago, such treatment would have been expected. A childhood and young adult life as a branded had hardened him against such emotional and verbal abuse. But now, after a decade of soft words and kindness the mage had grown soft. It was embarrassing and infuriating to be this weak. To be surprised, and hurt, at the shopkeepers biting words and malicious treatment. Had he stayed in the shop much longer he knew it would have only gotten worse.

He clenched Ike’s tunic, squeezing hard enough to make his knuckles white as he fought against his newly realized sensitivity. He hissed in frustration as the scenario ran over and over in his head, reminding him of so many memories.

“I’m sorry, Soren,” Ike whispered, wrapping as much of himself around his love as possible. “I’m sorry,” he said, over and over again while he stroked the mage’s long dark hair.

“It’s… It’s just petty,” Soren whimpered. “I’m petty for allowing myself to be bothered by a mere shopkeeper. For expecting anything less from people.”

“It isn’t petty, heart,” Ike replied firmly. “No one deserves to be treated that way, and as you well know most people _don’t_ treat people that way.”

“Except for Tellius,” came the bitter reply. Soren wiggled out of his lover’s arms and walked away, feeling a familiar fury building again, newly stoked after years of calmness and content. I can’t stand this place, Ike. I don’t even have the safety of a spirit charmer’s guise to fall under anymore.  People recognize what I am from a mile away. I’ve caught whisper’s and glares. I’ve felt malicious intent aimed my way throughout the entire market today, and it’s all my past coming back to haunt me again,” he swiftly brushed his tears away before turning back to his maps. “I want to leave, Ike.”

“We’re leaving tomorrow, Soren. We’ll leave Telgam far behind us and be in Nyumbani before you—”

“No. I want to leave Tellius. I don’t want to continue this job. I don’t want to have rocks thrown at me or be offered poisoned food at some point. I don’t want to be here in this filthy and disgusting continent,”

Ike gazed sadly at his companion, brow upturned in concern and melancholy. “Soren, please… we can’t leave.” The mage scoffed at the expected response. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Soren realized he wasn’t being rational at this point. His emotions and anger were getting the better of him.

“Toss aside that damn chivalry for a single moment Ike and think of us! Think of me!” Soren begged. “You _can_ leave. We can both leave tonight and be far away from this place.  The welfare of this land is not our concern. It will just get us killed,” he insisted.

“You said that I am me because of my service towards others, Soren. I can’t go back on my word. Why would you even ask something like that?” Ike demanded, offended.

“Because it’s enough to get you killed and these people don’t deserve to be saved! Let the continent burn for all I care, there are enough people here that deserve it,” Soren scorned.

“You don’t mean that,” Ike said quietly, feeling an unfamiliar sensation begin to bubble inside. Such words were much too harsh. The mercenaries, his sister, his niece and nephews, his homeland. No one deserves to be hurt that way, least of all his family. Or the people he had fought beside and for.

“Don’t I? How many people must reject me before I am allowed to reject them, Ike? How many times must I be subject to their prejudice and accept their judgment all for the sake of some noble cause and your damn pride?”

“Don’t twist this back on me, Soren! This isn’t about my pride, it’s about doing what’s right! Taking care of others and thinking about them. If you weren’t so concerned about yourself you might see that!”  Ike snapped, surprised by Soren’s sudden attack.  

“Selfish? You think me selfish for this? For living the life I’ve lived and feeling the way I do? Have I no right to be angry about the way I was treated? Don’t I deserve the right to watch out for myself when others wouldn’t?” Soren spat.

Ike shook his head. “No Soren! You’re supposed to put others before yourself! If you ever actually did that you’d understand!” He regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. The anger clouding his mind drained away, making him realize what just happened. He opened his mouth to take back his words, but it was too late. Soren’s face had closed off, eyes cold as blood and lips sealed with a frown. He snatched up his map case and a candle, turning on his heel for the door.

“Well, aren’t we both lucky that I’ve never acted on my feelings?” The mage replied coldly over his shoulder.

“Soren, I didn’t mean that…” Ike started, weakly reaching his hand out to the wind mage.

“You seem exhausted, Ike,” came the stiff reply, a voice he used with everyone else, but never Ike. “I will have our routes for tomorrow established and allow you to rest. Good night,” he said as he closed the door with a bit more force than intended.

Ike silently stared at the closed door, feeling a horrible pit in his stomach. The entire discussion came flooding back to the swordsman, every single word and meaning rolling around in his head. How had he allowed his temper to get the better of him? That never happened. He was always calm and patient when it came to Soren.

“You idiot, Ike,” he muttered to himself. “You absolute idiot. What was I thinking?” He wasn’t at the time. That was the problem. First the accusations against his family, then his actions, it had been all the small jibes that were only second nature to Soren, and somehow Ike had allowed it to get under his skin this time. Was it because he was tired? Or because he was worried about Micaiah and his friends? It didn’t matter what caused it at this point. All that mattered was that he had made a mistake. A terrible mistake. Ike paced the floor of their small shared bedroom for another hour, pondering whether to seek out Soren and apologize immediately, or wait until tomorrow. What could he say? Was he really wrong for doing this?

No, Ike decided firmly. He was doing the right thing, he was helping his family, his friends, and even an entire kingdom. He can’t turn his back on them now when he had committed, and even Soren had to understand that. None of his actions were about pride, it was helping his loved ones. “I can’t turn back now,” he mumbled softly to himself. But over and over again he saw the tears filling Soren’s claret eyes, hurt and burdened with every town they seemed to visit. Was it such a big deal though? Soren had dealt with it before.

“But no one deserves that, especially Soren,” he mumbled again, staring at the dying fire as he sat himself down on the bed. “Never Soren,” he added sadly. Soren had a difficult life, as Ike well knew. A life filled with so much darkness. It wasn’t fair of him to push Soren like this, but he needed Soren. He needed him by his side, watching his back, guiding him to a future that had them both. His mind continued to whirl as he carefully considered the words he said and the words he needed to say. He couldn’t turn back now, but he also couldn’t hurt Soren, or let him be hurt anymore. Ike finally came to a decision as exhaustion finally overwhelmed him.

* * *

 

Soren didn’t come to bed that night.

Ike arose after a fitful night of sleep, unable to find a comfortable position without the mage’s warmth next to his. The bed felt colder without him, the pillows a bit saggy. Overall the swordsman felt quite miserable. He groggily dragged himself from bed that early morning, determined to complete his tasks before they departed. Pulling on his boots and clasping his cloak about him, the former hero stumbled down the stairs to grab an apple and some breakfast porridge.

Titania looked up from the table next to Soren, who also looked worse for wear with dark bags under his eyes and drooping shoulders.  As much as Ike wanted to comfort the mage, he withheld himself from doing so, sitting on Titania’s other side instead. The paladin raised a single eyebrow in question, which Ike avoided by digging into his bland food. It was awful, but filling.

“Gee, I didn’t think the beds were _that_ bad,” Mia commented, sitting next to Ike with her own breakfast.

Ike merely grunted, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth as he snuck a glance at a half sleeping Soren. The map of Begnion had been laid out between his two former advisors. Titania murmured something to Soren, who mumbled back a short reply.

“When do we leave again, Titania?” Ike asked as he swallowed his last bite.

“High sun,” she replied. “We’ll leave in two hours. Make sure you have everything packed and ready to go before then.”

Ike dumbly nodded and forced himself out of his chair, heading towards the door with slightly renewed energy.

“Where are you going?” Mia asked.

“I broke my waterskin last night. Going to head out and replace it before we leave,” Ike called behind him. It was a lie, but he preferred to do this next part alone.       

The walk did the swordsman some good. He felt more awake as the chill morning air greeted him. With newfound purpose he marched down the streets towards the marketing district.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I don't know if I did that argument segment very well. It's hard to imagine Ike ever getting furious or angry unless someone is threatening his loved ones or someone is getting hurt. Ike is a pretty darn chill dude. But of all things that wise men fear it is the anger of a gentle man, no? But one of these themes I'll really be looking into is the fact that Ike and Soren technically have rather opposing philosophies. More often than not has Ike ignored Soren's counsel regarding the enemy, maintaining this altruistic ideal of helping everyone regardless of your own wishes, whereas Soren comes from something more... expedient. It's a dog eat dog world out there, and you need to look out for yourself and your own before gallivanting off to be a hero. This is something that will be rather consistent regarding their relationship, and does cause a lot of angst. I apologize if I didn't portray it very well in this chapter. I'll probably come back to fiddle with this later on. 
> 
> But let me know what you think about this dilemma between lovers. Who's philosophy is right in this context? What sort of effect will this have on their relationship? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below!
> 
> As I said previously, I have chapter 12 planned out fairly well, I just need to write it... gross. :P So the goal for next week is chapter 12. I will have it posted, at the latest, on Sunday. Woo! Have an excellent Cinco de Mayo humans!


	11. Down the River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ike and Soren are still in a rocky place. The team makes it halfway down the river before meeting some new faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liiiiiiiiiiveee!!! Sincerest apologies readers. I've been deeply pondering and revising the story. Where am I going? What do I want to write? What story do I want to tell my readers?! It was a difficult hiatus you guys. And here's the result: I needed to simplify some things, remove some things, and alter some things. Obviously. 
> 
> Here's the big changes I'll be working on for the next while.   
> \- I realized I want this specific work to be more Ike and Soren oriented. I also feel like I'm not fully capturing Sothe's perspective and character well enough, so I decided to cut out the POV of group Crimea and focus on Ike and Soren's groups. No worries, the group will come back later, and perhaps I will even make a side work detailing their adventures (it's quite a lot). But in the meantime, I want this to be an IkeSoren centered fic. So I will be removing the two chapters focusing on Boyd/Sothe's group and putting it into a file elsewhere. (No worries, there's no way I'd delete some 20k of hard work). So just be aware that this info will change.   
> \- I also needed to think a bit more about my antagonists and my plans for them, along with the plans that i had to incorporate them into the story and characters. It's been a lot to think about, but just so you know, I'm doing more... stuff. I haven'g been wasting time. OTL 
> 
> Again, sincerest apologies for the late update, and the lack of editing for this chapter. >> Like I said, I had a lot of self reflection to do.   
> Will my updates be more consistent? Who knows, this next little while is still some revision, but I have been writing in between revising. I go back and forth between the two. But we're making good headway here. Haha. Thanks for your patience in the meantime. I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

 

“Where the hell is he?” Titania muttered, pacing back and forth along the dock while Shinon munched on his apple. Gatrie and Haar loitered beside a stall, perusing the menu of fried foods while Soren quietly perched beside Mia. “Is this because of whatever happened between you two last night?” She looked pointedly at Soren.

The mage shot daggers at the paladin, refusing to answer as he turned his scowl back towards the boat. Titania sighed, feeling bad enough to see him this sour. Not only angry, but… hurt. It had her worried all morning, and his mood had lightened little since then. She let out a sigh, allowing her irritation to mellow somewhat as she walked over to sit on his other side.

“Still don’t want to talk about it?” She asked not unkindly. Soren’s silence was her only answer, looking down at his feet with avid interest. His shoulders tensed for a moment as she slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in closer in quiet companionship. “Regardless of whose fault it is, you can’t do this. Again.”

“Again?” Came the quiet askance.

“Closing everyone off and refusing to talk to anyone. Locking everyone out and wallowing in your pessimism.. You always did that back then,” she mused, recalling the memories of their long past together. Soren had been more antisocial back then, suspicious of nearly all the members of the mercenaries and difficult to find when he wanted to be hidden. It had taken a long time for the boy to lower his walls, and even then he was cynical, critical, and all too grown up for his age.  The first one who had chipped away at his hard shell had been Ike.

“I did not,” he denied with pursed lips.  “Do not,” he corrected himself.

Titania allowed herself a small chuckled. “Oh really? Then what’s this right here then?” she gestured his small frame.

“Me. Not being tricked into your… counseling, and patiently waiting for our tardy team leader. Observing Gatrie’s antics with the stall owner while our captain impatiently wraps up their loading. This is me. Waiting. More and more often it seems,” he muttered, his shoulders relaxed a little, and he tiredly leaned into his friend’s warmth.

“No trickery involved, Soren. Just a… support conversation,” She smiled. The two were interrupted with the huff from an approaching middle-aged sailor. “Captain Gilbert, I apologize for our last member, he seems to have taken a bit longer than expected.”

The older man scowled at the paladin. “We run a tight schedule on my boat, Dame Titania. You’ll be boarding now, or you’ll need to find yourself another boat,” he warned.

“I’m sure he’s on his way right now,” Titania reasoned, rising from her seat to glance down the streets again. “If we could just have a few more moments—”

“You had a few more moments when I double checked all my cargo. Board now or look for another boat.”

“Wait! There he is! Right over there!” Mia called, leaping atop her box and waving her hands in wide arcs. A head taller than most of the crowds on the street, it was hard to miss Ike’s head of blue hair as he sprinted down the street weaving between the throng of people. He came to a panting halt in front of Titania, doing his best to catch his breath while Shinon and Gatrie rejoined their party.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasped. “My errand took me longer than expected.” The captain shot the group a disapproving frown before waving them towards the gangplank, leading the way aboard his moderately sized barge. Haar was already aboard with his wyvern, lounging along the creature’s spine with Titania’s horse fenced in a small wooden corral set towards the aft of the barge, just behind the bridge house. Five other sailors darted about, with two aloft and three below. The moment the last mercenary boarded the craft, the gangplank was pulled in and lines cast off.

“What in the world would take you so long, Ike?” Titania scolded, leading the way towards her mount’s small corral. “We nearly left you.”

“Sorry,” he apologized again, squeezing himself through a stack of sealed crates. “I’m here now though, so it’s fine, right?” The swordsman craned his head in search of a dark head of hair amongst the throng of sacks and crates that covered any clear surface of the barge.

Gatrie and Mia had taken the liberty to lounge against Haar’s wyvern, causing the cold-blooded wyrm to rumble appreciatively for the extra warmth in the overcast autumn cold, while Shinon was called on the first watch along the upper rigging. Finally, he caught sight of his lover tucked along the wall of the bridge, nestled safely on a pile of spare canvas.

“What took you all morning anyways?” The Paladin questioned, catching Ike’s attention again.

“Mm? Oh, nothing. I just had some second thoughts about a sword that caught my eye yesterday.” He gestured to the new steel sword sheathed at his hip, with Ragnell now sheathed safely on his back in a nondescript leather sheath.

“It took you that three hours to buy a sword?” Titania looked at him suspiciously.

Ike shrugged his shoulders.  “I might have gotten distracted for a bit.”

“By what?”

“When did you become my mother, exactly?” Ike rolled his eyes.

“When you choose to do suspicious things that could potentially get us into trouble,” she replied with a smirk. “And since you’re so set on avoiding giving me a straight answer, I’ll let you figure out how you’re going to fix things with Soren on your own.”

“Thanks,” Ike muttered, watching her stroll over to her horse before taking a deep breath and tightening his hands around the straps of his pack. With a great huff he finally turned around to see Soren avert his red gaze, turning his attention back to stitching an old tome with twine and leather scraps. The swordsman hesitated, uncertain if he would be welcome to sit beside the wind sage, perhaps even nervous to invoke his unpredictable wrath. His companion had chosen to sit snugly between a pair of barrels, with little space for any company. An obvious statement of his current disposition towards his lover. Ike wrung his hands nervously for several moments before wandering closer.

Soren made no sound or movement to acknowledge his presence, focusing all his attention on his salvaging. Ike quietly eased himself in front of the mage, unloading his heavy pack with a  _ thump  _ to create a third makeshift wall that blocked them from most angles. A moment of digging through the pack produced a brown paper package which he placed on his companion’s lap, pulling the mage’s attention down at the gift, then up to stare.

“Is this an attempt at an apology?”

“It is, and… something more,” he gestured to the package in invitation. The mage made no move towards the offering. Caught beneath his cold stare, Ike started again. “I want to start with I’m sorry. I didn’t mean the things that I said. I allowed myself to get offended, and let my own pride get in the way of my real feelings.” Soren cast his gaze down, choosing not to meet his apologetic gaze.

“I know that I can be a bit stubborn. I’m a sucker for the underdogs and I’m not the best at saying ‘no’ to people. But that doesn’t mean that I’ll ever allow you to feel left behind, and I don’t want you to think I’m choosing the world over you.” The mage made no movement, so he pressed on. “I can’t turn my back from doing what’s right, but that doesn’t mean protecting you will ever go against that.” 

Soren didn’t reply, hands returning to work in sewing together a thick piece of leather to the front cover. “A rather naïve argument,” he muttered.

Ike released a sigh, half expecting this response from his taciturn lover. “But a true one nonetheless. I know it will take time for you to forgive me. But…” he gestured to the offering that remained untouched. “I hope you will be able to, in time.” The mage glanced up to briefly meet Ike’s eyes, seeing a tired and sad look on the fighter’s face. The pair broke contact as the blue-haired fighter rose to his feet.

“I’ll be waiting for you. When you’re ready,” he said softly before departing. Soren’s hands clenched into fists, feeling his anger waver for a moment as he watched his companion approach Titania beside her horse. He resolutely set the packages aside and returned to his work, determined to salvage what little remained of the old tome.

* * *

 

“Yaaaah!” Mia’s battle cry arose as she charged at Ike, using her shorter height to swing uncomfortably low at his legs. The warrior parried the blow with his new sword, using his strength to overwhelm the quick swordmaster and force her to take the defensive. The open deck of the ferry left less room for maneuvering than usual, so it wasn’t long until the female fighter found herself cornered. Ike pressed forward, quickening his attacks in an attempt to keep Mia on the defensive, wearing her down until her speed began to falter.

With a determined growl she lunged to the side, somersaulting towards the narrow opening for more space and freedom. Her attempt was countered with a light kick, knocking the swordmaster off her feet in a messy heap. Ike let out a worn sigh, leaning against his sword to help support him from the strenuous workout. “Mia. We’ve been dueling all day for the past two days. Let’s at least take a break for a while?” He suggested hopefully, wiping a bead of sweat from his nose.

The swordmaster hopped to her feet with renewed determination. “Absolutely not! I want to figure out how you did that move. I think I’m starting to get it now. Again!”

The warrior shook his head. “It took me three months to learn that technique from Stefan. I think it will take a little more than two days for you to learn.”

Mia scoffed. “I’d have it learned faster if we weren’t stopping to take breaks every four hours. Besides, as a master of the blade I’m not constrained to the same limitations in agility like you,” she said smugly.

Ike wasn’t going to be baited, recognizing the mistake the last two times they sparred after she had riled him up. It was a technique the female swordmaster often used against her opponents, taunts and jibes that produced an effect on her opponents that she knew how to control and use to her advantage. “Consider this my surrender. I’m sure Titania will be willing to spar with you for a while—”

“Coward!” Mia declared loudly enough for the sailors to hear. A round of snickers would usually be enough to cow the man on, but Ike had already made up his mind.

“Yes, Mia. I’m a coward, and I’m off to cower in the shade away from this heat. Perhaps I’ll rally up the courage to challenge you again later,” he muttered before retreating towards the shaded canopy set up near the main cabins.

The purple-haired fighter huffed, annoyed that her calls were ineffective against the exhausted fighter. “But I don’t want to fight Titania…” She muttered. She quickly scanned the boat for any opponents she might find worthy enough to fight. Shinon remained on higher ground in the rafters, knowing too well of Mia’s itch for a fight. She dismissed Gatrie as well when she noticed him napping away on a pile of folded sails. The myrmidon was about to give up when her eyes finally landed upon Soren, tucked away between a pair of large barrels scribbling away on a piece of paper. She skipped over to the mage, mouth half open when he held up his hand to stop her.

“No,” He said flatly, eyes never leaving the parchment.

“Oh come on, Soren. Everyone needs to train! It’s also not very often that I get to challenge a spellcaster,” Mia replied hopefully. “It’ll be a great learning experience for the both of us!”

The mage finally glanced up at the expectant swordswoman with an unimpressed look. “You’ve already worn out our best fighter while we are sailing down a river notoriously known for falling under ambush. Unlike swords and physical weapons, tomes are fragile and expensive to create or purchase, and we will be unable to replace equipment for the next few days. So, to answer you plainly… No.”

“You are the enemy of fun, Soren,” Mia pouted. “It’s been two days down this river and I’m bored!” She whined. “One round, please?”

“Mia, perhaps we should leave Soren alone,” Titania suggested, seeing the mage’s irritation on the rise from his set shoulders and narrowed eyes.  “I don’t think he’s in the mood for a spar.”

Mia replied by unsheathing her sword. “Then perhaps he needs the right incentive!” Using the flat end of her sword she slipped her blade beneath his parchments, flipping them up to snatch them from the air. She jumped away before Soren could reach them, holding them over her head triumphantly. “Now you’ll have to spar if you want them back.”

Soren felt the blood rushing in his veins, the simmering anger beneath the surface threatening to boil over. “You will return them. Now.”

“Not until you spar with me!” Mia sang before dancing away.

“Mia…” Titania warned. Ike swiveled his head to stare as the mage rose to his feet, watching his offender with a stare powerful enough to make the woman hesitate for a moment. But only a moment.

Mia turned on her heel, confidently sauntering away with her back to the mage. “Now you’ll just have to fight with me, Soren. Don’t worry though, I’ll be sure to go easy on—YAAAH!” She shrieked as she flew across the deck, papers thrown aside and her blade knocked from her hand as she landed unceremoniously on top of a sleeping Gatrie.

“Snrk-- Whoa! Hey!” The large knight snorted awake, blearily nothing the fair skinned beauty laying on top of him. “It’s a little early to be jumping me, Mia. But if I’m up for it since you’re so eager,” he smiled. The swordmaster made a disgusted sound and scrambled off of him, blushing furiously under the mocking laughter from the sailors and her mercenary companions.

“That was a cheap shot!” She protested as Soren knelt down to retrieve his papers. The myrmidon marched over with a new sort of furious energy. The mage was unperturbed, rising to his feet just as she came to invade his personal space.

“Common sense amongst fighters is to never turn your back on your opponent. You left me an opening, so I took it,” he explained in a tone Mia found all too patronizing.

“I-I wasn’t ready yet! It wasn’t a fair fight! ” She complained.

“Considering how often we face unfair fights, I suggest you learn to be ready  _ all _ the time, then,” Soren snapped back, eyes locking on hers defiantly. “Now stop harassing people to play with you like a needy child,” he chastised before furiously whirling on his heel. Mia crossed her arms stubbornly, stomping in the opposite direction towards the front of the ship.

Titania released a tired sigh, glancing at Ike next to her who had remained quiet during the heated exchange. “At least it was just wind and not a knife. I’ll go talk to Mia,” she volunteered, rising from the deck of the ship to follow the swordswoman and leaving Ike the job of talking to Soren. Normally that would be easy. Normally he would have been at Soren’s side in an instant to talk him down from his notoriously foul moods. But things weren’t normal right now, and Ike was half-tempted to let the mage stew. He apologized, he asked for forgiveness and was rejected. It was all on Soren to determine where they went from there, and Ike wanted to feel no obligation in comforting or calming the mage down. But want meant little in the face of needs.

The blue-haired fighter let out a tired sigh, reflective of his current dilemma. He pondered for a moment longer before pushing off the ground with new resolve. He came to a stop beside Soren who was packing away his paper with sharp movements, reflecting his frustration through the subtle abuse towards his papers and charcoal. Now that he was standing beside Soren he didn’t quite know what to say, all of his thoughts leaving him as his nerves started to kick in.

“You all right?” He murmured softly. He raised his large hands to settle on the mage’s narrow shoulder but hesitated before allowing them to fall to his sides. 

Soren released an exasperated sigh. “I’m fine,” he muttered in reply. “Just keeping our mercenaries in line instead of bending over backwards to make everyone happy.”

“Hey,” Ike’s face fell into a frown. “I know that I hurt your feelings yesterday, but that doesn’t mean you get to take it out on Mia. She was just having fun.”

“First of all, Mia provoked me into action and I responded. Second of all, her ‘fun’ can only be tolerated to the extent that it doesn’t wear us down and leave us unprepared for real combat. Both of you are foolish for wasting all your energy before we’ve even reached the main river. So forgive me if I’m not in the mood for idiocy,” Soren snapped. He tightened the buckles on his satchel to ensure his items were secured against any future thievery.

“Would it kill you to relax once in a while? You focus so much on the negative impacts of people’s actions, but Mia and I were learning from each other as well. Training isn’t a waste of time,” Ike argued, following after Soren when he attempted to leave their conversation in favor of the starboard railing of the boat. “We also need to work as a team, Soren. And taking out your frustrations on another teammate isn’t how we resolve our problems. It’s facing your problems head on. Talk to me.”

The mage turned to glare at the swordsman with rekindled anger, flinching in surprise as he heard a hard  _ thwunk _ . Ike jolted forward and gasped as he felt a blossom of pain erupt from his shoulder, glancing over his shoulder to see an arrow lodged into the flesh of his armor.

Shinon followed the path of the arrow that had emerged from the distant treeline, searching with his sharp eyes through the thicket. Movement in the trees revealed their enemy, armed with heavy crossbows aiming at their ship. “Attack from the trees! Everyone take cover!” He called as he let loose volley after volley of arrows with deadly precision. Two other sailors knocked arrows in their bows and followed suit.

“How many??” Titania shouted as she guarded retreating sailors.

“At least a dozen on our portside!” The archer replied, ducking down to avoid the whizz of several crossbow bolts. “More coming in starboard!”

Ike gingerly touched the lodged arrow, making sure that the arrow didn’t pierce his flesh too deeply before snapping the wood away and withdrawing towards the center of the boat out of reach from the flying missiles. “Soren, what are we dealing with?”

Feelings set aside. the tactician followed him close towards the rear of the boat with the main cabin providing ample cover for him to cast his spell. A strong breeze flew through the trees, the invisible wind spirits traveling as far as Soren’s will could reach before returning to the mage with their secrets. His red eyes flared open in shock as their battlefield was laid out before him.

“This isn’t your average ambush,” he murmured, glancing from the right and the left with his mind in a whirl. “Captain! We need full sail.” The tactician ordered, running towards the center of the ship behind the mainsail. “There are too many for us to take on, Shinon, provide us covering fire while I get us out of here,” he ordered before opening his tome.

“How many are there?” Ike asked, moving closer to defend the vulnerable spellcaster.

“The enemy is organized, and judging by these volleys there’s more of them than we think,” Soren replied. “More than my wind can catch anyways,” he muttered before beginning his silent chant.  The mage soon lost himself in concentration, allowing Ike, Mia, and Titania To provide him surrounding cover from any stray arrows. 

Right hand raised towards the sails  with his tome kept in view, Soren sent a gush of wind upwards, accelerating the propulsion of their boat.

“Keep it going, lads!” The captain called as they sailed beyond the volley of arrows. “The river merges up ahead! We’ll be beyond their reach there!” Whatever else the captain was planning to say was cut off as the boat lurched, knocking everyone to the deck. Soren’s concentration broke as he fell atop Ike, dispersing the wind and allowing their sails to fall flat.

Titania was the first to recover. “What just happened??” She called to Shinon who had miraculously avoided falling from the topsails above. The archer scrambled to his feet with a tight grip on his bow and the mast beside him.

From Shinon’s position at the top of the boat he could catch sight of the hidden boom chain that spanned across the two-hundred-foot-wide river, locking the lightweight ferry into place and slowly forcing the boat to rotate towards the port side. His sharp eyes followed the length of chain to catch sight of the heavy-duty wyverns stationed on either end. “You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered before calling down his observations to the team below.

“How is this possible?” Titania asked in confusion. “How in Ash do bandits get a hold of wyverns?”

“Either they’re a very competent group, or we’re dealing with something bigger than mere thugs,” Soren replied, ignoring Ike’s offered hand to help him to his feet. “I believe we have found ourselves caught in an interdiction.”

“It could be worse,” Ike offered optimistically, “They could be throwing fire at us.” The boat lurched to the side again as the sound of cracked wood brought their attention to a new attack. Two ballistae bolts had lodged themselves into the starboard side, connected with thick cords of rope leading towards the eastern shore where a platoon of red-clad soldiers awaited them.

“Begnion soldiers…” Gatrie spat. “Why would they barricade their own river?”

Soren recalled his conversation with Rhys during their climb up the mountain. “Verge of civil war indeed,” he muttered. “Captain Gilbert, can any of your men fight?”

The grizzled sailor scurried down from his vulnerable position on the topdeck. “They can to survive,” he assured the mage.

“Good. Because they’ll be getting their first taste of battle,” the mage promised darkly. As they were pulled away from the river blockade, a new onslaught of arrows sailed from the sky, striking an unlucky sailor a few feet away from Shinon.

“At least they’re not flaming arrows,” Ike added. “It seems they’ll want your cargo, captain. Have your men at the ready to follow our charge. My mercenaries will take the front.” 

The captain nodded before running to the hatch to gather his small band of sailors. Ike and his mercenaries, save Shinon, regrouped behind the protection off the main cabin, , He let out a small sigh of relief before turning back to his gathered mercenaries. 

“Looks like the odds are a against us,” Titania commented worriedly. “At least forty on the east bank with more further upriver. Perhaps we surrender the cargo for our passage?” 

“No,” came Soren’s flate reply. “A company of Begnion soldiers will recognize our band. We’re already on a tight schedule and we risk being captured or worse.” 

Titania gave stiff shake of her head. “What other options do we have?” 

The mage release a frustrated sigh, staring daggers into the grain of wood while his mind world. Gatrie piped in. “We break through the block?”

“How do we do that?” Titania replied. 

Soren pondered the knight’s suggestion, “We don’t know if Haar can see the wyverns above, which means Titania will have to ride ahead and take them out,” he slowly explained. “Break through their ranks and take out the wyvern while the rest of us will engage the enemy to prevent a pursuit.” A life of war and battle had refined each member into a powerful threat that few could challenge, but more than  forty soldiers against six mercenaries and seven inexperienced sailors was a risky gamble. “It… could work if we weren’t heavily outnumbered.”

“Prepare for a battle but standby until my signal. If they openly assault we engage, but if the captain and I can talk this out, we will. No time for arguments,” Ike added pointedly when Soren opened his mouth to protest. His tactician narrowed his eyes in disapproval but remained silent. A look was shared between the mercenaries before Ike issued his orders, sending them out to prepare before retrieving the captain. 

* * *

Shinon huddled in the safety of the crows nest, peeking over to scan the platoon of soldiers. A line of twelve archers took the rear with five mounted horsemen behind them, leaving the rest of their infantry to take the front lines. One of these horsemen called out, the leader of the platoon he deduced. “Stand down, Captain. We will no longer harm you or your men so long as you peacefully disembark and disarm.” 

Captain Gilbert stood with Mia and Ike on either side, a stern frown plastered onto his face. “Whose banner do you work under?” He demanded. “Are we not all citizens of the empire?” 

“That depends on which house you’re with,” the officer replied grimly. “Your flag sails under the house of Tanas. Therefore,  I cannot let you pass. I will ask you once more to disembark, otherwise my men will fire.” As if to emphasize his point, the archers knocked back their arrows with a readied barrage. The captain took a nervous breath, glancing at Ike to receive a small reassuring nod before approaching the gangport. “What do you want from us…?” 

“Lieutenant Erif. We will be taking your craft and cargo into our custody until further notice under the authority of Duke Numida.”

“Didn’t we kill him a long time ago?” Soren muttered to Titania. 

“Numida _is_ a family name. I don’t know much about Begnion families, but I don’t doubt his son adopted his father’s mantle when he died.” 

“A pity I don’t answer to the Duke. The only one with any authority over me and mine is Empress Sanaki!” The captain spat back.

“Do not risk the lives of your men for a single voyage, Captain. I promise no harm will come to you if you surrender. This is my final warning!” 

Ike took a sharp breath, stomping his foot on the deck loud enough for his team to hear. Captain Gilbert gulped nervously, his voice partially cracking when he next called. “We will disembark then!” He announced, kicking down the gangplank before diving aside just as Titania steered her horse around the cover of the main cabin, charging her horse straight into the gather ranks while Shinon and Soren released covering fire. 

The banks of the Telgam erupted into chaos as the front line of soldiers were trampled beneath Titania’s warhorse. She swept her poleaxe in a broad arc, breaking through the line of defense with ease before charging into the woods. 

“Calvary pursue the paladin! The rest of you, attack!” Their lead opponent ordered, sending two dozen begnion soldiers charging towards the boat with a line of archers releasing their missiles at the rear. Ike, Mia, and Gatrie met the assault head on, with the heavy armored knight acting as an impenetrable fortress in front of the gangplank while the swordsmen darted into the fray. 

Mia pulled back to Ike’s side, narrowly dodging a well aimed lance. “They recovered too quickly. I can’t reach their archers!” She called, loud enough for Soren to hear atop the beached ferry. Ike struck down another soldier, letting out a tired puff of air before returning to the defensive as a sword sailed down to meet him. Both of the fighters’ swords drooped a little too low for comfort. 

“Soren, how many archers remaining?” Ike called. The mage glanced out on his higher vantage to see one archer get picked off by Shinon’s missile, leaving three remaining to tighten their formation. 

“Hold the line a bit longer! Shinon’s almost finished,” Soren called before falling into another chant. Already the tactician could see their small party being pushed back by the enemy. Without Haar or Titania’s force they would be overwhelmed, proficient fighters or not. From the corner of his eye Soren could see Gatrie stumble against a pair of soldiers tackling him to the ground. 

“Gatrie’s down!” Shinon called, launching an arrow at his friend’s assailants. The knight was too late to recover his guard, allowing several soldiers to slip through their line and onto the boat. 

“Mia the ship! Fall back to the ship!” Ike called. The swift myrmidon danced between attacks to reach the gangplank, covering Gatrie’s position while Ike followed close behind. “Finish off the archers, Shinon!” the blue-haired fighter yelled. The sniper obliged, picking off another ranger with a deadly shot. 

Soren brought his spell to a climax,, releasing a gale of wind into the throng below to give Ike and Gatrie some much needed space. A shout from the captain warned the mage too late as he felt a burst of pain erupt from his skull. The mage crumpled to the wooden floor with the world  whirling around him, struggling to recover as a Begnion soldier loomed above him with his axe raised menacingly. Too close to cast a spell, and too dazed to reach for his dagger, Soren could only clench his eyes in denial of the impending blow. When the strike had yet to hit, he opened his eyes to see the soldier fall beneath Mia’s deadly blade, a smug smile plastered across her tired face. 

“Always lost in your books, Soren,” she clucked with mock disappointment before having her attention pulled back to the battle as she blocked a low swing of a sword. She lured her new opponent away from the tactician to allow him time to recover, angling herself with the captain and his few sailors at his back to keep a tight formation. He forced himself to his feet, ignoring his protesting head as he craned about seeking Ike. He remained at Gatrie’s side, both bleeding from new wounds and struggling to keep the remaining forces at bay. 

The roar of Haar’s wyvern gave their small band the help they desperately needed. Diving from the sky, the rider picked off the final archer with a swing of his axe, narrowly missing the enemy captain as the wyvern returned to the safety of the skies. Soren allowed himself a grim smile before turning his attention to the pressing assaulters, allowing Ike and Haar to break through the remainder of Erif’s forces. 

“Enemy reinforcements from the north!” Shinon called, followed by an echo of a horn. 

“This is madness!” Captain Gilbert snarled as he kicked aside a clumsy assailant. “There’s no way we can fight them off. What do we do now, tactician?” 

Soren released a low curse. Where the hell was Titania? “Shinon! How far out??” 

“Up the bank less than half a mile! All on horseback and closing fast!” 

Ike continued to advance with Haar flanking from the north. Already the mage could see that by the time they reached their leader they would be cut off from the ship once reinforcements arrived. 

“Ike!” Soren called desperately. “Fall back! Ike!” His cries were drowned amidst the din of battle, his lover lost in the fray as he weaved an elegant dance with his blade. 

The warrior had found his second wind, dismissing mortal weariness as newfound adrenaline pushed him into the heart of the battle. He readily met two long-reaching lances, parrying them aside before sliding down one’s wooden length, his blade piercing through one soldier with Ragnell’s divine blade with ease. By the time his second opponent recovered, Ike had broken past the lance’s range, leaving his enemy bleeding on the ground while he moved on to his target. Haar landed in the open space left behind by the hero, blocking the path between Erif’s men and their leader. 

“Impossible!” The  lieutenant hissed, unsheathing his fine silver blade to meet the blue-haired veteran. “I’ve never seen such a man fight. Who are you?” 

“Too old for you to recognize, thankfully,” Ike growled, falling into stance with Ragnell raised high over his head. His opponent didn’t allow himself to hesitate, kicking his horse into a charge. Ike dived to the side, avoiding Erif’s swing and rolling back to his feet with Ragnell poised for a response. His swing for the horse’s legs never came as new pain burst from his arm. He let out a guttural shout, his blade slipping from his hand to fall uselessly to the floor while he gripped his punctured forearm, an arrow firmly lodged in place. 

“Ike’s been hit!” Shinon called, descending from his perch atop the crows nest, and leaping down the gangplank. Soren ran close behind, heart in his throat and knuckles white as he clenched his tome to his chest. 

Too often had he dreamed of this nightmare. Memories of past battles, with Ike straying from his side to fight the Black Knight, to fight the Mad King Ashnard, or to fight the goddess of Tellius herself. Each time he rose victorious. Each time he came back to him. He had overcome odds greater than this. It wasn’t possible for him to fall. It wasn’t going to happen, he convinced himself as he ran up the bank to see Erif charge towards Ike again, his sword raised and ready to cut the prone swordsman down. 

“NO!!” Soren screamed. Shinon knocked his arrow back in a desperate attempt to stop the blade’s descent. 

The ending blow never came as Erif’s mount let out a shrill cry, rearing back on its hind legs with an arrow protruding from its flank. The same type of arrow that had struck Ike. Erif was knocked from his horse, landing flat on his back in a daze. Shinon was ready to lodge an arrow in the man’s throat when the rumbling of horse hooves announced the arrival of Erif’s reinforcements. 

A single glance at the caparisons proved the cavalry to not be a part of Erif’s forces at all. Regalia of blue and white came into formation along the northern bank, their leader at the front with an ensign close behind. The battle came to a standstill as the remnants of the Numidan soldiers laid eyes on their fallen leader. The head of the blue riders removed his helm to free his golden mane. He gazed down at the fallen lieutenant with a dark gaze.

“Numidan soldiers. You will throw down your weapons. Immediately!” His voice echoed strong and clear across the banks. The threat of fresh warriors, a towering wyvern, and their beaten master was enough to convince the enemy. 

Shinon kept his arrow trained on Erif, kicking his sword out of the way when he tried to grab it again. Soren darted across the field to Ike’s side, skidding to his knees beside the kneeling warrior.

“Ike! Are you all right?” He asked, gently grasping the blue-haired warrior’s shoulder. A sharp hiss made him pull back his hand as if burned. 

“Sorry,” Ike gasped. “I think some things are catching up to me.” He tried to reassure Soren with a smile, only to grimace instead. The wind mage glimpsed his companion’s arm, noting the blood trailing down his arm to stain the dirt below. 

“My staff is still in the ship. Let me take you back,” the smaller man insisted, helping Ike back to his feet before scooping up Ragnell into his arms. 

“A fine blade you have there!” The two glanced up to see the lead paladin approach. Even as he dismounted Ike noticed the man was of average height but solid build. His hard demeanor replaced with a friendly smile. 

“Thank you. I would be more willing to show it to you if you hadn’t shot me,” Ike replied stiffly, forcing himself to stand straight despite his body’s aching protest so he rose a few inches above the newcomer. 

“My sincerest apologies, friend. I ordered my second to keep you from killing the man we’ve been hunting for weeks, but her method was a bit more radical than expected. Let my healer tend to your wound. It’s the least I can do,” the man smiled sheepishly, a charming smile that only nobles knew how to make. It made Ike distrust the man immediately.

“And you are?” 

The paladin inclined his head a few inches. “Excuse my poor manners. I am Malik Selior, master of the Selior duchy and fiance to Empress Sanaki.” 

“Fiance?” The warrior glanced the man up and down. He was younger than Ike, but not by much. “Aren’t you a little old to be marrying the empress?” 

Malik blinked in surprise at the blunt question before letting out a hearty laugh. “You are an honest man, sir. It is a noble quality in a fighter such as yourself. But I don’t think I yet know your name?” He looked expectantly at the warrior. 

“Gawain,” Ike replied after a moment. “And no need for the healer, Malik. We’ll be on our way as soon as our last member returns.” He headed towards the boat with Soren tucked against his side. “Try not to shoot me while I’m getting back to the ship though.” 

Selior let out another laugh, matching Ike’s stride until he came to a stop beside Erif, now bound and kneeling with only a handful of his men kneeling behind him. “Not only is he honest but the man is funny. Where do you hail from Sir Gawain?” 

“Just Gawain is fine,” Ike insisted. “We’re simply 

“A lieutenant of Duke Numida. I should have expected as much,” the duke clucked his tongue. 

“They’ve been taking ships for the past twenty days with Wyverns and a blockade, sir.” a woman with a bow reported, the one that had poor aim, Ike assumed. “There may be more men on the other side of the river.” 

Malik sighed. “This is Numida’s move, then? A petty blockade? Did you also send your soldiers to be highwaymen along the eastern roads?” He nudged the enemy leader with his armored boot. 

“You have trespassed onto Duke Numida’s lands,” Erif snarled. “This is an act of war against my Lord!” 

“And blocking empire trade is enough to unseat your duke, Lieutenant,” Selior replied with a sniff. “You risk much pitting your vulnerable duchy against the Empire. I doubt young duke Glen is capable enough or smart enough to battle her holiness.” 

“Your empire is weak and crumbling from the inside out, Selior scum. How many seasons more do you think that brat will sit on the throne?” Whatever else Erif had to say was cutoff when Duke Selior’s fist crunched into his face, knocking the traitor to the ground with blood trickling down his nose. 

“Be glad I silenced you now. Next time your treason will be silenced with an executioner’s axe,” the duke promised darkly. “Load them back at the camp.” 

Ike witnessed the exchange silently, feeling Soren tense at his side as they both processed their new revelations. “Numida is rebelling against the empire then?” He asked curiously. The mage dug his elbow into his side, but he ignored him. 

Malik turned back to Ike. “It’s a petty statement. One that will be quashed before word even reaches her holiness,” he replied. “But I am in your debt, sir Gawain. Had your party not been attacked it would take us weeks longer to catch these men. I also owe you for the injury,” he gestured again to the arrow still protruding from his arm. 

“You’ve done enough damage,” Soren snapped. “If you really wish to help us then you’re men will help push us off the bank.” 

The gold-haired duke looked down at the mage who had come forward. “I wouldn’t dream of refusing a lady her desires. Especially one so fair as yourself.” Again with the sugary smile. 

“What ?” Soren cocked a brow while Shinon choked back a laugh. Ike bit back his own smile, avoiding his lover’s disapproving scowl.

Duke Selior continued, oblivious to his blunder. “I wouldn’t dream of keeping a woman waiting. Mara! Let’s see if we can help these people on their way!” He gave Soren a sweeping bow before departing. 

Soren’s face flushed as Shinon finally burst out into an obnoxious cackle. Even Ike struggled keep his blank expression as he watched the debonair noble depart. 

“You know, I’m sincerely surprised he didn’t try to kiss your hand,” Ike commented. Soren replied by flicking the shaft of his arrowed arm, snatching the laughter from the warriors lips as he groaned over his wound. 

“I think you can wait until after we’ve unmoored our ship to be healed,  _ Sir Gawain _ .” Soren sneered as Titania emerged from the woods with her hair a mess and blood staining her armor, but overall safe. 

She took in the scene with a single glance, new riders, Shinon belting out a rare laugh while Ike and Soren glared at each other. She dismounting beside her friends in bemusement. “What did I miss?” 

* * *

The remainder of the day was spent moving the boat. Soren cast another precious wind spell while every able body pushed the boat from the bank, with Haar’s wyvern bearing the majority of the weight. By the time they had finally returned to the water and bid the Duke farewell, the sun was nearly set. Ike had barely taken a breath at the starboard gunwale when Soren appeared at his side, a mend staff in hand. 

He shared a tired smile with the mage, shifting his arm to allow Soren to examine his arm. He made quick work of removing the arrow from his arm before doing the same to his back. “Two arrows in one battle,” he clucked, cleanly removing the arrow with a sudden yank. He ignored Ike’s sharp intake of breath as he moved his staff to the wound. “One might think you’re losing your touch.” 

Ike forced himself to focus on the conversation as the staff forced his body to speed its healing, burning the muscles in his skin as they knit back together. “I was… distracted,” he growled. “My darling mage was upset this morning.” 

Soren chose not to respond, dedicating his attention to the warrior’s wounds for a quiet moment while Ike clenched his eyes shut and gnashed his teeth, quietly battled the throbbing pain of his mending wounds. He hated this process, despite its efficiency. Nothing hurt more than having magic force your body’s recovery. It felt like your muscles were being stretched too far, and it left him freezing as all his body’s energy was consumed by staff. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Soren mumbled as the light of the staff finally faded, leaving Ike shivering but whole again. 

He cracked an eye open to catch the mage’s intent gaze. “I’m glad you’re all right too,” he replied sincerely, subtly offering his open palm. Soren looked away, refusing to meet Ike’s patient gaze while his smaller hand snuck into his. They stood quietly for what felt like a long time. 

“I also owe you an apology,” Soren finally broke the silence. “I would never leave you, Ike. Even though you’re proud, and stubborn, and a bit dense.”

“Please continue,” Ike replied facetiously.

“Gladly,” the tactician allowed a small smirked. “I won’t leave you even though you nearly get killed in battles, lay on top of me at night, which can be smothering, or the fact that you slurp your soup and tend to leave crumbs everywhere. You’re terrible with giving things away to people, especially when they don’t deserve it. You also have awful taste in lovers because they’re broken and crazy,” he scooted a bit closer to the warrior, just a little, barely noticeable.

Ike smiled. “It’s true, my current lover has a terrible influence on me. Ruining bookshops, getting chased by city guards, disturbing the peace… awful habits.”

“What?” Soren’s eyes widened, whipping his head to see his lover’s sheepish grin.

He shrugged shrugged, taking his turn to look away and avoid his lover’s gaze. “After buying some things I might have insulted the shopkeep. Something about a deplorable ingrate—an insult I remember you calling people in the past—then I knocked over his books and accidentally broke his front store window.”

“Why would you do that?!”

“It was an accident! For the latter part at least…  except then he called the city guard and I had to lose them for the next hour or so… It’s actually really good that we decided to leave at the time we did,” Ike coughed, scratching his nose and avoiding Soren’s disbelieving stare.  

“What possessed you to do something so stupid?” he demanded.

“In my defense, the guy had it coming to him. He was a terrible shopkeeper and was mean to all his customers, even me. And worst of all he made you cry. I may be the hero of Tellius, but I’m also the strapping defender of your honor. So, if anything, I was doing the city a service by messing up his shop,” the swordsman replied in defense.

Soren shook his head. “Idiot…” he muttered. Ike nodded in agreement as he held open his cloak, inviting the petite mage to his side. After several seconds of pondering, the mage finally complied, easily sliding under the warm and heavy crook of his arm. Ike released a satisfied sigh, appreciating the warmth and completion with Soren tucked neatly against his side.

“I’m sorry, Ike…” came a small muffled apology. “For everything I said. I didn’t mean a lot of it… I’m afraid I might also be a bit proud.”

Ike gave a tight squeeze. “Me too, Soren. Me too.” 

“Seeing you nearly killed like that… I…” The warrior gave him a tight squeeze. 

“I’m still here, Soren. Healed up, uninvolved in a civil war, and feeling great if not a little hungry.” 

The mage huffed, taking a deep breath of Ike’s scent. “We’re lucky Sir Gawain and his mercenaries weren’t recognized on the spot.” 

“I don’t recall the Selior duchy playing a great role during the Goddess war. I’m still surprised he’s betrothed to Sanaki though.” 

Soren shrugged. “She’ll need all the help she can get if the empire divides. Their struggles are far from over. This was just a prelude of the events to come.” 

“And we’ll be nowhere near it when that happens,” Ike promised before his teeth started to chatter. 

His tactician glanced up at him from his space in the cloak. “Would you like to retreat down the hatch?” 

“Y-yes please,” Ike nodded shakily. Soren rolled his eyes before leading him to their bunks down below. A small space had been cleared for the mercenaries. The captain had even been kind enough to give their party several hammocks to rest in. As Ike ducked after the mage he noticed his unopened packages lying on his discarded pack. “Are you going to open my peace offering now?”

The mage peeked up at his lover for a moment before glancing at the gift. “Depends, I didn’t exactly get you anything. I was planning on letting our relationship fall to pieces while I wallowed in misery and self-pity for the next lifetime. But now you’ve made things… complicated.”

“Sleep in the hammock with me?” he suggested.

Soren rolled his eyes.  “That’s a given.” Ike pondered thoughtfully for a moment before latching his hands onto a low hanging beam, nuzzling his face into his partner’s neck while whispering a request that made the pale mage flush. “W-what? Why? I mean…”

“I think it’s the only offering I’ll accept,” Ike smirked before picking up the package and pressing it into Soren’s hands. “Now open it.”

He looked up at Ike for a moment before pulling at the strings, tearing away the package paper to reveal a pair of books. The first gleamed with an emerald sheen characterized by many wind tomes, with yellow thread stitched into the surface and spine in swirling designs. A brief skim of the contents revealed the book to be an overly fancy galdr songbook, filled with flourishing spells used for eye-catching tricks and small illusions.

“How much did you spend on this?” Soren asked.

“Hardly anything,” Ike reassured him. The mage shot his lover a dubious look but allowed it to pass, turning his attention to the smaller book underneath. It was a plain and simple brown leather, with fairly worn parchment inside. Well used, yet sturdy. He flicked open to the middle, surprised to see everything in common tongue, with… music notes. “And this is…?”

“I saw Elena give you a music pipe before we left. I thought you might as well be ready to play when you see her again,” the larger man confessed, “It was about to be thrown out with a box of books anyways, so I snatched it on my way out.”

Soren stared at the small book, interest mildly piqued at the foreign markings and strange symbols sprawled throughout the book. “Thank you,” he finally said, uncertain of what to do with the book exactly. It seemed that his pipe may require a new level of commitment.

“You’re welcome,” Ike smiled, watching him tuck the books away in his satchel while he climbed into a hammock, inviting the wind sage to join him. Soren removed his clasps and kicked off his boots before complying.  It was a tight squeeze but Ike was able to stretch the canvas a little more to accommodate his partner, both of them letting out a tired sigh as they settled in for their brief reprieve. After several quiet moments Ike broke their silence with a question. “Will that other book I bought be useful to you?”

“Not in the slightest,” came the blunt reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More bits and pieces of the game, we'll see how they come into play later on.   
> So like I said, we won't be going back to Boyd's group this time but sticking with Ike and Soren's team. It'll be an adventure! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Critiquing is appreciated. My goal is to have a chapter up once a week with the deadline date being every Sunday. Thanks again for reading!


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